


My heart has changed after meeting you

by zimriya



Series: The last flame of my life (a Homin ABO AU) [3]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Slow Burn, alpha changmin, i mean spoilers but if you've read the other stuff idk if it's really one so, imagine if i tagged all the filth that lies within, just cause there's heat, much filth lies within everyone, omega yunho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 11:11:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 109,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya
Summary: For as long as he can remember, Yunho’s had it in his head that he’s going to be an alpha. Canon AU.





	1. friction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ABO origin fic that nobody ~~hexmen~~ asked for. Yes we’re going from 1999-2018 and yes JYJ are in this and yes they ~~unfortunately~~ have speaking roles HOWEVER I am a **duo fan** so enjoy my split feelings ~~and barely disguised distaste for the three of them~~ everybody.
> 
> Title from _November With Love_ (to continue the theme of the others.)
> 
> Betaed by hexmen, with whom I went beyond saving with in order to figure out this universe. ~~Biology was debated. Hyenas were researched. I can now critique ABO au for scientific accuracy.~~ This is our baby. All other mistakes are my own. Vic gave it a look over b/c she always has my back even when I end up in sin. Kinah also looked at it for ~~pre-split accuracy~~ because she's the best. ENJOY!
> 
>  
> 
> [PRIMER](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/aboau)

**1\. Friction**

\--

For as long as he can remember, Yunho’s had it in his head that he’s going to be an alpha. It makes sense. Yunho’s father is an alpha. Yunho’s grandfather is an alpha. Every man worth writing home for on the Jung side has been an alpha--all the way back to when the Jung’s weren’t from Gwangju because there was no Gwangju so to speak of. When the first microscopic strands of whatever grew legs to walk out of wherever, the strands that would become Jungs were probably also alphas.  _It makes sense_. And moreover, that Yunho would present as anything other than an alpha is absurd.

But then, that Yunho would be standing in front of said alpha father demanding that he be allowed to ask SM Entertainment to make good on the prize package he won two years ago is also absurd.

Yunho’s not supposed to be asking to become an idol.

Yunho’s supposed to graduate college top of his class, go to law school, marry a nice omega girl from a good family, and have nice omega daughters and many alpha sons. 

Yunho is standing in front of his father asking to become an idol. 

He feels rather like slow-peeling paint. 

His father hasn’t said anything. 

Yunho holds the man’s gaze. “Please,” he says, for the third time, because it might be a sure thing that he’ll be an alpha, but his mother would have his hide if he wasn’t a polite one.

His father’s jaw tightens infinitesimally.

Yunho feels sweat break out along the back of his neck. “Please?” he tries again and it’s a question and  _fuck_. 

Yunho’s father’s eyes narrow. “Yunho-yah,” he says. “How are you going to convince Lee Sooman, if you cannot convince your own father?” 

Yunho feels his chin lift and his shoulders fall back before he can help himself, and tries not to look too visibly pleased at the slow curl of pride his father hasn’t quite managed to keep from showing through on his face. That’s why he was allowed to compete for the SM Best Competition in the first place. That’s why he’s even allowed to be part of Dance Team A+. 

It must be a sign. 

“Thank you, Father,” Yunho says. “I understand what I have to do.” 

Calling the SM casting director several days later locked away in his bedroom while his parents talk secretly in the family room is one of the scariest decisions Yunho ever makes.

It’s also one of the easiest.

He packs a bag and marks up a bus schedule the very next day. 

\--

So maybe being an idol is not for him. Or at least, maybe debuting as an idol is not for him. There’s all this dancing and singing and rapping and the ever-looming stress of presentation and while Yunho never second-guesses the dancing, it’s very easy to second guess the singing. Of Yunho’s usual threesome, Heechul-hyung and Donghae are both excellent vocalists; of Yunho’s secondary fivesome, Junsu and Sungmin-hyung are better if not equal. And while Hyukjae’s smile is a little too gummy and his name needs some work--the younger boy has been trying out various stage names for so long now that Yunho’s considering making a list and dropping them all in a hat just to end it--he and Junsu can both dance like no one else.

It’s all incredibly disheartening. Yunho’s glad he’s making friends who are as dedicated and talented as he feels he is, but Yunho also is starting to feel like Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim is going to keep shoving him into never-debuting groupings until he’s too old for all of it.

Which sucks.

And makes Yunho even more of a self-appointed drill sergeant.

“Yunho-yah,” says Heechul-hyung, one Saturday morning after Yunho’s finished putting a group of them through the paces learning choreography.

Heechul-hyung learns dances faster than any of the instructors know, and Yunho hasn’t quite figured out if the older boy is doing that on purpose or simply doesn’t care. Technically speaking, Heechul-hyung is one of the newer trainees, but technically speaking, Heechul-hyung is already an alpha, so Yunho calls him hyung and tries not to look _too much_ like a lost puppy when they’re together.

He fails.

“Yes, Hyung?”

Heechul-hyung is smiling at him in one of those knowing and disarming ways. It makes Yunho’s metaphorical hackles raise, mostly because it usually accompanies a truly unnecessary choreography fumble, and usually happens when one of the instructors is in the room with them. They always seem to be making note of things, more than anything when Yunho is forced to go against every grain of social conditioning to call Heechul-hyung out--again, older, alpha, _older_ , _hyung_ \--and it sets Yunho’s teeth on edge.

Heechul-hyung always says he’s just looking out for Yunho. Yunho wishes he’d look out for Yunho’s toes, and not his… whatever he’s gaining by making Yunho look like an asshole.

“You’re too nice to be the leader,” says Heechul-hyung.

Yunho feels his features darken into a scowl. “I’m not going to be Four Seasons’ leader,” he points out, both because Four Seasons is brand new and his pride and joy, and also because he _isn’t_. He’s going to be Four Seasons’ maknae, and isn’t _that_ disappointing.

Yunho has no idea how he’s going to explain to his father in his next awkward phone call home about the new group he may or may not debut as part of. It’s been a year of this now, and living on the streets and with Junsu and on trains to get home in time for school on weekdays is getting old. Having to call home with what should be happy news is one thing. Having to call home to explain that his new group only has one presented person--and that that person is the eldest _and_ an alpha--is low on the list of things Yunho’s wants to do.

Outside of his extended family, Heechul-hyung may be the most unalpha-like alpha that Yunho’s ever met since coming to Seoul, but he’s still likely to set his father’s teeth on edge. And the one time his parents had come to visit the month before and met Jaejoong-hyung had ended with the man not at all subtly shoving law school pamphlets under Yunho’s bedroom door.

Heechul-hyung had said it was because Jaejoong-hyung just had the _look_ of an omega. Jaejoong-hyung had tried to take Heechul-hyung’s head off. And then, remarkably, they’d become the best of friends, leaving Yunho and Youngwoon-hyung off to the side at all of their Four Seasons’ planning meetings like awkward third and fourth wheels.

But Yunho almost doesn’t care, because he can almost taste his debut.

“Yunho-yah.” If he’s been bothered by Yunho’s long inner monologue, Heechul-hyung doesn’t show it, regarding Yunho with a look that should make him feel patronized but instead makes him feel warm and loved and glad Donghae convinced the older boy to stay with SM. “You’re thinking really loudly.”

“Shut up,” Yunho says, embarrassed despite himself. “You’ve met my dad.”

Heechul-hyung’s brows pull together into a frown. “Last time we talked about this you wouldn’t speak to me for a week.”

“You called my dad an asshole,” Yunho says, even though in hindsight it is pretty funny. “Also, you set my new jacket on fire.”

“Okay, those two things are entirely unrelated,” says Heechul-hyung. “And that was totally Donghae’s fault.”

Yunho will concede that. “True,” he says. “Where is he?”

Like clockwork, Sungmin-hyung and Hyukjae appear down the hallway dragging along a pitiful-looking Lee Donghae, who doesn’t so much as sigh when Heechul-hyung goes up to them to free him from the other two’s clutches.

Yunho blinks at the rest of his friends, head tilted to one side.

“Why are you sad?” says Heechul-hyung, voice brisk and with just a hint of an accent. “Yah, Lee Hyukjae.” He taps the boy on the arm not entirely gently. “What did you do?”

Hyukjae sputters and pulls away. “Hyung,” he whines. “I didn’t do anything.”

“He really didn’t,” puts in Sungmin-hyung, ever the peacemaker. “It was Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim.”

Heechul-hyung gets a look in his eye that makes Yunho nervous, and Junsu groans. “Don’t encourage him,” he complains. “This is why alphas have a bad name.”

Heechul-hyung’s eyes narrow not at all subtly, and he releases Donghae to turn on Junsu.

Yunho steps forward despite himself, anxious, but luckily it’s Donghae who breaks the tension. “It’s not that, Hyung,” he says. “Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim wants Sungmin-hyung and Hyukjae and Junsu to be a group.” He frowns a little, obviously still bothered. “Like you and Yunho-hyung and Jaejoong-hyung and Youngwoon-hyung in Four Seasons.”

“Only better,” interjects Hyukjae, coming to stand pressed right up next to Donghae. “No offense, Yunho-hyung.”

“Much taken,” Yunho says.

“We’re going to be an R&B group,” Sungmin-hyung explains, at the same time Junsu stops glowering up at Heechul-hyung and nods.

“Yeah, and we’ve got two fabulous dancers.”

“Heechul-hyung is a fabulous dancer,” argues Yunho, frowning. “And Jaejoong-hyung sings better than all of you.”

Junsu’s eyes narrow and something smoldering in Yunho’s chest blazes to life like a flame.

“Yeah, okay,” says Hyukjae, sounding annoyed. He’s still standing straight next to Donghae, arms touching all the way down to the wrist, but he smiles a wide gummy smile with Yunho and Junsu turn to look at him. “Is this a sunbae thing?”

Yunho lifts a brow.

“You’re both no fun when it comes to friendly competition.”

“I’ve been in three groups already,” Yunho says frankly. “None of this is friendly.”

Hyukjae’s mouth closes into a small ‘o’.

The silence is a little awkward, and Donghae shifts his weight between both feet. Sungmin-hyung looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. Junsu looks like he still wants to fight the issue re: Four Seasons and whatever Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim wants to call Junsu, Sungmin-hyung, and Hyukjae.

Finally, Heechul-hyung breaks the tension. “I heard there’s a new trainee,” he says, and then steps not so subtly between Junsu and Yunho. “Got in with just two interviews--and without dancing.”

Yunho tilts his head up to look at him, and can’t quite help but be struck by how pretty the older boy is. Pretty enough to lose Yunho a girlfriend; although, she’d been weird about it when explaining. Kept going on about how Heechul-hyung was an alpha like that was a bad thing, or something, and Yunho had nodded along because that seemed safest, before quietly making a note to tell SM to stop worrying about him not being single so close to Four Seasons’ hopefully debut.

And then the rest of Heechul-hyung’s sentence catches up to him, and he frowns. “What?”

“Yeah,” pipes up Junsu, always one for gossip. “I heard his mom brought him.”

“Your mom brought both of us, you tool, we were fourteen,” points out Hyukjae, and gets punched in the arm for his trouble.

“Whatever.” Junsu ignores Hyukjae with all the practice of having grown up together. “He’s not going to last.”

“I heard he was cute,” says Heechul-hyung. “He’s younger than all of you, but don’t worry.” He reaches out to grab Donghae and Yunho into half hugs. “You’re still my favorite dongsaengs.”

“And what are we, dead weight?” says Junsu dryly.

“Yep,” says Heechul-hyung instantly, entirely unapologetic. “You’re like extra dead weight--Sungminnie came with Donghae as a set--”

“Hey,” Sungmin-hyung says quietly, because clearly the fact that he and Donghae jointly won a contest and then both signed with SM is still a little bit of a sore spot.

“And Hyukjae is going to probably marry Donghae--”

“Am not,” says Hyukjae, cheeks flaming, because clearly the fact that he and Donghae met in a cafeteria and have been inseparable to the point where even their teachers have started commented on it is also still a sore spot.

“But you’re like. Hyukjae’s best friend.” Heechul-hyung gives Donghae and Yunho a squeeze. “Double dead weight.”

“Junsu let me sleep in his house, Hyung,” Yunho says.

“Whatever.” Heechul-hyung starts moving Donghae and Yunho back into the practice room. “Don’t worry that you’re not in a group with those losers,” he tells Donghae, not at all attempting to keep quiet. “You can come join Four Seasons.”

“I think the fact that there’s four of us is on purpose, Hyung,” Yunho points out dryly, unable to help himself. “We’d have to kick someone out.”

Jaejoong-hyung pokes his head up when he spots the three of them, and smiles. “Hyung,” he says to Heechul-hyung.

Yunho’s fingers flex almost reflexively.

“Hmm,” says Heechul-hyung. “We can kick out Jaejoongie.”

Jaejoong-hyung blinks, clearly confused, and Yunho laughs before he can help himself. “Jaejoong-hyung is Autumn, right?” He darts a considering look between Donghae and Jaejoong-hyung. “Donghae’s not very autumn-y.”

“No.” Heechul-hyung releases them and moves to warm up by the mirror. “But I wouldn’t say Youngwoon is very winter-y either.”

“I want to be Summer,” interjects Donghae, following Heechul-hyung over to their usual corner.

“You can’t,” says Heechul-hyung, at the same time Sungmin-hyung and Hyukjae and Junsu very loudly come in talking all about their new R&B trio. “I’m Summer.”

“But, Hyung!” whines Donghae, pouting a little.

“But Hyung nothing,” replies Heechul-hyung. “I’m Summer and Yunho’s Spring. You’re either Winter or Autumn.”

“Fine,” Donghae concedes. “But only because Youngwoon-hyung scares me.”

Heechul-hyung rolls his eyes. “Coward.”

“Smart,” says Donghae. “Have you seen his arms?”

“No, Donghae,” Heechul-hyung says, at the same time their instructor comes into the room. “I haven’t seen Youngwoonie’s arms. They’ve somehow been invisible this entire time--”

“Ahem,” says their teacher.

Yunho sidesteps over to Heechul-hyung and stomps on his foot a second too late.

“If you’re all finished,” their teacher says, voice dry but bemused. He clears his throat. “Introduce yourself.”

And then Yunho notices him, the kid who must be the new trainee. He’s smaller than Yunho’d thought, with overgrown hair and ears and the clearest, highest voice, as he bows and get out his name.

“My name is Shim Changmin. I was born in 1988. Please take care of me.” The bow lasts longer than even Yunho’s had.

Their teacher claps his hands. “Good,” he says. “Now that you all know each other, let’s get started.” He steps away from the front of the room and back towards the stereo. “Yunho-yah.”

Yunho’s shoulders snap back and he steps forward, My-name-is-Shim-Changmin already forgotten.

Until they’re done learning the new combinations and are expected to put them together in small groups, and it becomes incredibly clear that My-name-is-Shim-Changmin cannot dance to save his life.

“Wow,” Yunho says, on a break between choreography watching Teacher-nim help Jungsoo-hyung with the more complicated moves at the end. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Maybe he’s nervous,” says Hyukjae, but even he sounds dubious.

“Maybe he’s not even trying,” counters Junsu, and winces when My-name-is-Shim-Changmin loses his concentration and nearly falls straight on his face.

Yunho’s on his feet before he can help himself, one hand outstretched to help haul the kid upright, Hapkido training and SM training bleeding into one as he says, “Don’t do that. You’ll break a wrist.”

My-name-is-Shim-Changmin blinks back him with wide doe eyes, and for a second Yunho is almost distracted by how long his eyelashes are. He’d said 1988, which would make him two years younger, which would make him barely _fifteen_ , and nowhere near any sort of designation. Yunho’s less lovely relatives would take one look at him and say omega, but Yunho’s had enough disapproving sighs from his mother to last a lifetime, so he tries his best to look at My-name-is-Shim-Changmin and just see boy.

He fails.

“If you’re going to quit, you should just do it now,” Yunho says.

My-name-is-Shim-Changmin’s eyes go watery and then furious in two seconds flat.

Yunho lets go of his arm only seconds before it’s ripped away.

My-name-is-Shim-Changmin bows, curt and polite and utterly disobedient. “Thank you, Sunbae-nim,” he says, and then turns his back.

Yunho stares after him, mouth still half open, and tries not to notice how red the tips of Changmin’s ears are.

He walks back to his friends with a roaring in his own ears, and just barely makes out the sound of Heechul-hyung speaking.

But then Teacher-nim calls everyone back to order, and Yunho is once again lost the rhythm of dance.

\--

Four Seasons disbands. Their look is off, which is code for they don’t mesh well under Heechul-hyung’s leadership, and their sound is off, which is code for Yunho and Youngwoon-hyung can’t sing well enough to match the others, and also, their dancing is off, which isn’t code _at all_.

It makes Yunho feel even worse about the whole situation, because he might not have been the leader of the group like he’d wanted when he first arrived to SM, but he was certainly the self-proclaimed dance leader--and of their entire batch of trainees as well. To have to look Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim in the eye and hear that their dancing wasn’t to standards; it makes Yunho both despairing and insufferable.

It doesn’t help that Junsu and Sungmin-hyung and Hyukjae’s R&B group has already had a recording for a music program.

It doesn’t help that once again, Heechul-hyung is reconsidering the idol thing period.

Normally, Yunho would make a fuss about it, or maybe try his hand at some sort of inspirational thing, but even that is too much for him. Luckily, Donghae has expressed enough horror for the both of them.

“Hyung,” he says, clasping both of Heechul-hyung’s too pretty hands. “You can’t leave.”

Heechul-hyung stares back at Donghae with his too pretty eyes, flicks his too pretty hair out of his face, and sighs.

Donghae just keeps staring.

Yunho thinks maybe he should help. He gets up off his back, sighs to match Heechul-hyung, and then wanders over to stand behind Donghae as some sort of back up. He fails. He’s just too sad about Four Seasons disbanding, so all he can offer is half a smile, and then even that’s gone. Donghae’s warm and easily draped atop of though, and he’s toughened up from all the dancing so he takes Yunho’s weight easily enough when Yunho’s limbs give out and he ends up hanging off the younger boy with a deep sigh.

Donghae shifts slightly to better hold Yunho, which brings him more solidly into Heechul-hyung’s line of sight.

Yunho just sighs some more.

“Okay, that’s just unfair,” says Heechul-hyung, tugging his hands free of Donghae’s. “Yunho-yah.”

Yunho drags his eyes open.

“You’re seventeen years old.”

Yunho sighs into Donghae’s shoulder.

“Your life is _not_ over.”

“You can talk,” Yunho tells Donghae’s shoulder. “You don’t even want to be here.”

Heechul-hyung’s eyes narrow and he starts to look a little bit more like himself--and Yunho feels an itch settle between his shoulder blades the longer the older boy glowers--but before they can say anything, they’re interrupted by the rest of Yunho’s secondary fivesome.

“Our lives are over,” Junsu says before he fully reaches them. “Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim disbanded us.”

Yunho doesn’t lift off Donghae, but he does raise an arm. “Ha,” he tells Heechul-hyung. “I’m not the only one.”

Hyukjae wanders into line of sight looking equally glum, and Donghae finally unseats Yunho so that he can cuddle him.

Yunho tries not to pout too much about it.

“For the last time.” Heechul-hyung flings his hands up in the air. “Your lives are not _over_ \--”

“Whose lives are over?” says Jaejoong-hyung, completing their impromptu congregation by draping himself all over Yunho.

Yunho pouts harder but takes it, too tired to fight the older boy off.

“Theirs.” Heechul-hyung seems utterly done. “Because they’re not debuting--”

“It _sucks_ ,” Junsu says, joining the cuddle pile. “But did you hear about the new trainee?”

Yunho moves around a little so he’s less smooshed under Jaejoong-hyung and Junsu’s combined weight and blinks. “The new trainee?”

“Not yours,” Jaejoong-hyung says quickly, waving a hand and extricating himself from the group without even a pause. “The new new one.”

“Shim Changmin is not _my_ trainee,” Yunho starts to say, scowling, but Jaejoong-hyung ignores him.

“He’s from America,” he says. “I heard Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim brought him in himself.”

“I’ve met him,” pipes up Sungmin-hyung, sounding smug, and Yunho finally looks over at the other boy.

Hyukjae and Donghae appear to be engaging in some sort of weird wordless conversation behind him, and for once Yunho has to admit that maybe it’s a good thing that Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim disbanded the R&B group. Donghae and Hyukjae should be in a group together for sure. They probably will be, since they can sing and dance and Donghae has his looks and Hyukjae has his presence, or whatever. Yunho’s got guts and perseverance and three failed groups.

His life is _over_.

“He’s not very good at English,” Sungmin-hyung, continues, oblivious to the rather maudlin turn of Yunho’s thoughts. “His name’s Park Yoochun--”

“Whatever.” Jaejoong-hyung seems unbothered. “He’s new and special and _I heard_ they’re putting together a new group with him in it.”

Yunho feels rather like a dog, perking right up and pushing Junsu away. “A new group?”

Jaejoong-hyung turns to him with shining eyes. “Yep.” He drags out the syllable, practically thrumming with the news.

For a second, Yunho lets himself get caught up in it.

And then he tamps it all straight back down under life experience, pessimism, and the unrelenting doubt in his father’s voice.

“Whatever,” Yunho says. He goes back to lying down in the middle of the hallway.

Heechul-hyung scoffs, annoyed.

Yunho can’t bring himself to care.

\--

The next day, Yunho gets called into Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim’s office for a photoshoot. They send a nondescript business looking man to fetch him the moment he arrives to SM, but Yunho’s too tired for more than cursory bows and greetings. He slept poorly on the train and missed breakfast, but given the churning that Yunho’s stomach starts up the moment the man says the words “photoshoot” and “Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim’s office”, Yunho thinks it’s probably for the best.

Of course, very quickly Yunho realizes both that they’re not going to Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim’s office and that his guide is not one for small talk, which. Not throwing up an empty stomach seems small in comparison to the rather irrational thought currently floating around Yunho’s head about being taken to some back room to be offed or something.

He’s just starting to entertain the idea that this could be the end for him--in more ways than one--when one of the doors he though was a training room swings open.

A woman steps out, unfamiliar yet commanding in a way that only an alpha can be, and herding a still shy-looking Shim Changmin out in front of her.

“Oh,” she says when she sees Yunho and his guide.

“You’ve already got him,” Yunho’s maybe assassin replies.

“Hello,” Changmin chimes, bowing to Yunho with that sort of automatic courtesy that makes Yunho think unkind things about omegas and younger-born-in-1988-please-take-care-of-me-trainees.

He bows back, because he’s not a heathen, and then frowns.

Shim Changmin is a lot smaller than Yunho remembers. Granted, they don’t see each other often, mostly because of age, but partly because Yunho’s a dancer and Shim Changmin, he’s been told, is definitely a singer. But what little of the boy Yunho remembers seeing hadn’t been nearly this birdlike. In fact, there was that moment, when Changmin was staring back at him with fire in his eyes, that Yunho had thought maybe Changmin was _something_.

But he’s just shy now. Terribly, helplessly, hopelessly shy. To the point where Yunho finds himself warring with the urge to give the kid a damn hug.

He settles for what he hopes is a comforting smile.

Changmin stares back at him, blatantly startled.

Their guides seem to have finished their silent, awkward posturing, and the woman very gently touches Changmin on the shoulder.

“Sungjae will take you both to see Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim,” she says, voice also gentle, before turning hard eyes on Yunho and his guide.

Yunho swallows, half curious and half cowed. The woman is alpha--that much is clearer than clear.

“Right.” Yunho’s guide, Sungjae-hyung, evidently, claps his hands together. “Come on, then.”

He’s walking before Yunho and Changmin so much as bow to the woman.

She smiles once more at Changmin, narrows her eyes at Yunho, and then shoos them both off.

Sungjae-hyung doesn’t so much as check to see if they’re following.

It’s incredibly awkward having a partner. Yunho’s thoughts go right back to death and being sent home in a box, only this time, now Changmin features.

“Yunho-sunbaenim,” says Changmin, voice not so much as a whisper as quiet period. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“No,” Yunho replies, also not whispering, but sounding coarse and unrefined in contrast with the bell-like tone of Changmin’s high voice.

Changmin keeps from flinching, but barely, and Yunho feels bad.

“They told me it’s for a photoshoot,” he explains, trying to soften his voice a little. It just ends up making his accent more apparent, and immediately Yunho feels self-conscious. He and Donghae were due for vocal coaching before he was called away, and Yunho is probably going to have to forego lunch in favor of begging Heechul-hyung to go over grammar books with him again.

Changmin, who Yunho knows was born and raised in Seoul, doesn’t look judgmental or superior or any of the other things Yunho’s first Seoul friends had looked like staring him down in an alleyway trying to take his audition CD. In fact, he just look intrigued, and Yunho wants to duck his head.

He clears his throat a few times instead.

“They told me that too,” says Changmin. “Sooyeon-noona, I mean. She said I had to go with her to Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim’s office for a photoshoot.”

Sungjae-hyung turns them to the left quickly, and Yunho finds the hallway are starting to seem more familiar. The threat of murder is looking less likely and more irrational. He swallows a few times.

“Do you think it’s a group photoshoot?” asks Changmin, sounding relieved at the prospect. “I hate cameras.”

Yunho doesn’t say something about how the idol life basically _is_ cameras. “I guess,” he says, unable to keep the doubt of his tone.

Honestly, if his spirit wasn’t already broken from Four Seasons and all his other projects falling through, he’d actually feel hopefully at Changmin’s presence. But as it stands, Yunho’s just glad he’s not about to be sent home to his parents in a box.

“I’m glad you showed up,” says Yunho, “because I honestly was worried that they were going to have me taken care of.” He doesn’t use air quotes but his tone is enough.

“Oh, me too,” Changmin says, visibly relieved. “Like, and Kibum-hyung says it’s just ‘cause I went to see that movie--”

“You saw that one too!” Yunho blurts out, honestly excited. He’d dragged Heechul-hyung and Donghae to the theater on one of their off days, but neither of them had been at all impressed by the poor special effects. Donghae spent the entire film sleeping and Heechul-hyung spent the entire film braiding his hair. Yunho came out of the film with a penchant for leather jackets (fuck Kim Heechul honestly) and apparently, a fear of being murdered by random SM employees.

“Yeah!” Changmin sounds equally excited. “My mom came to visit and we went to see it.” He breaks, off, sounding self-conscious, and looks down at the floor like he can’t quite help himself.

Yunho is reminded that Changmin is two years younger than him and probably even more homesick. He licks his lips, however, because whatever peace he and Changmin have found is nice, and he doesn’t want to lose it. “Do you see them often?” he asks. “Your parents, I mean. I’m only here on the weekends and Gwangju’s an entire train away, but I guess it’s different for you since you’re closer?”

Changmin brightens. “No,” he says, but doesn’t seem bothered. “I try to see my mom, though,” he adds. “We’re really close, cause she… had me.” He stops, retreating and fumbling even before he ends the sentence--and the entire conversation. He looks down again, and this time no amount of a pause and unseen smile can get him to look back up.

Yunho blinks again, at a loss. “Okay,” he says slowly. He’s never really thought about any of the trainee’s parents. He knows Junsu’s mom is an omega and his dad is an alpha, like Yunho’s, but that’s only because he lived in Junsu’s house; everyone else is up in the air, and this is the first time Yunho’s ever thought about it.

“We’re here,” Sungjae-hyung interrupts, stopping so abruptly that Changmin nearly walks into him and Yunho nearly walks into Changmin.

Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim’s office door stands before them, looking somehow even more foreboding than usual.

Sungjae-hyung either doesn’t see it or doesn’t care, and knocks.

“Wait,” Changmin tries to say, breaking off before it can really be more than a plea, with a dark furrow in his brow and a downturn of his mouth.

Yunho’s grabbing him by the hand before he can help himself, lacing their fingers together quickly so that by the time Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim is opening the door with a smile, Changmin can’t do more than startle and grip back briefly. His skin is clammy and cold from poor circulation or something, and for some odd reason, Yunho wants to get him gloves.

He pulls away instead, fights the urge to wipe his own sweating palms on his workout pants, and finally takes in the rest of the room. Clearly, he hadn’t stopped the hand-holding fast enough, because Jaejoong-hyung is staring between Yunho and Changmin with shrewd, considering eyes. Next to him is Junsu, who just look like he can’t quite hide his nerves, and another boy that Yunho doesn’t know by name but recognizes from around the building. He’s probably Park Yoochun.

Across from them are men in suits, but Yunho’s eyes slide right over the lot of them to land back on Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim, smiling and standing in the center room practically alight with energy. “Good,” he says. “You’re all here.”

Jaejoong-hyung is still looking oddly between Changmin and Yunho, but Yunho ignores him to go stand next to Junsu. He knocks their shoulders together in a way he hopes comes across as casual and not worry filled.

There are five of them here.

Rumor has it Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim was looking for a five piece boy group.

Yunho feels caterpillars take up residence in the pit of his stomach.

“We’re still considering names,” says Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim, speaking calmly and to the point. “But your debut date is December.”

Yunho’s heart thumps. December is only a month away. It’s the closest debut date he’s been given ever.

“I know this is very sudden,” continues Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim, “but I saw something in the five of you individually, and I think that together you could be unstoppable.”

The spiel is not different than the ones Yunho’s already gotten before, give or take a few members. He knows Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim gives it to all the groups (he asked Hyukjae after he, Sungmin-hyung, and Junsu finished recording their variety show) but the words still make gooseflesh breakout along Yunho’s arms.

“Thank you, Seonsaengnim,” someone says, and wow, no that’s Yunho. He doesn’t know how he’s managed to do it, but he bows, hold the pose, and listens to the sounds of his bandmates whisper and shove behind him.

They all parrot the phrase back as well, but Changmin’s voice is by far the loudest.

That could just be because it’s the highest, but Yunho’s stomach flips a little more.

When Yunho stands back to his full height, Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim is watching them all shrewdly. “Now, I know that most of you won’t present until next April,” the man says, like he’s discussing the weather or literally anything other mundane thing, and not the prospect of next spring, where everyone in Yunho’s life will be suffering through the voice changes and the growth spurts and the heat or rut. Yunho knows beta girls bleed. He knows alpha boys get their knots. He doesn’t know anything else. He doesn’t want to know anything else. He certainly doesn’t want to hear his company president gloss over the entire event like it’s a weather forecast.

“Now,” says the company president in question. “I know Jaejoong-ssi is the oldest, but I think we should leave it up to all of you who should be the leader.”

“I don’t want to be the leader,” says Jaejoong-hyung instantly. “I mean, Seonsaengnim--I mean--” he breaks off, mortified. He looks like he might cry.

Yunho’s chest aches suddenly. “I’d like to be the leader,” he interjects. “But Junsu has been here the longest.”

“I can be the dancer,” Junsu says, because old habits never die.

Yunho would snipe at him, but he doesn’t want to do it in front of Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim.

“I’m in the newest,” Yoochun adds.

“I think Yunho-hyung would make a good leader,” says Changmin, for once not really whispering.

Jaejoong-hyung makes a badly concealed attempt at a cough and Yunho wishes Junsu wasn’t between the two of them so he could stomp on his feet.

Changmin holds his ground, stepping up a bit so that Yunho can better see him out of the corner of his eyes. He’s got that look to him, that fire in his expression that had given Yunho such absolute pause when they met months ago. The tips of his ears are blushing.

One of the suits in the background writes something down on a notepad.

“Then it’s settled,” Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim says. “Yunho will be the leader.”

Yunho’s stomach caterpillars become butterflies. He dips his head, shaking a little.

“Now.” Their company president smiles. “How long do you need to tell your parents?”

Yunho’s stomach butterflies multiple in number.

“None of you are quite old enough to sign contracts without them,” Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim explains. “And I’m assuming they’ll want to see your new dorm.”

Yunho’s worried he’s going to start flying for how many stomach butterflies he has. Not once, in all of Yunho’s false debut starts has Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim talked about contracts or singing or moving into dorms. The slumbering, forcefully beaten-down but undying beast of “they don’t want you you’re not good enough” that lives in Yunho’s chest goes the fuck back to whence it came, leaving nothing more than hope and joy and nervousness.

“Thank you, Seonsaengnim,” he says hoarsely, barely holding back the bow. He wants to hug the man.

“That wasn’t an answer,” Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim laughs out, but he keeps talking anyway, about how they’ll be moving in next week and how that should be enough time to call their parents and how he thinks their name should have four characters--because five seemed too much, but he really liked the seasonal theme that Four Seasons had, Jaejoong and Yunho understand.

Yunho’s heart feels like it could burst.

“We did it,” he says once they’ve been dismissed. “We did it.”

“December is so soon,” Junsu says worriedly. “And a new song? Are we going to even be ready--hold on, let me text Hyukjae--”

“My parents aren’t going to be happy about a dorm,” Jaejoong-hyung puts in.

“Mine neither,” Yoochun agrees. “We’ve only just moved back and everything.”

“You guys,” Yunho says, not even denying that he’s whining. “You’re missing the point.”

No one turns to look at Yunho, and Yunho’s brow furrows.

“We did it, Hyung,” says Changmin, stepping up next to Yunho and oh, one of them was listening, at least. “We did it.”

For a moment they walk next to each other, so close they could be touching. After a pause, Yunho knocks their shoulders together. “We’re idols, Changminnie,” he says quietly. “ _Idols_.”

“Yeah.” Changmin pauses, and then quickly: “Aren’t you glad I didn’t quit like you told me to months ago?”

There’s a hushed pause where even the staff accompanying them all back to their various lessons seem bemused. Yunho grins, retort forming on the tip of his tongue.

Jaejoong-hyung reaches back and grabs Changmin around the shoulders. “I’m glad you didn’t quit, _Changminnie_ ,” he says, voice very sweet.

Changmin looks confused, like he can’t quite decide if he should feel happy or trapped. “Um,” he says. “Thanks? Jaejoong-hyung?”

Jaejoong-hyung lets go of him in favor of bothering Junsu and Yoochun about presentation, which. Of all of them, Jaejoong-hyung seems most worried about the coming spring, and Yunho really can’t figure out why. Jaejoong-hyung’s parents seem supportive and lovely--he knows they’re both betas, but he knows they love Jaejoong and his many sisters deeply and certainly they’re not making veiled comments any time Jaejoong so much as bows to anyone.

Junsu shoves Jaejoong-hyung off, annoyed, but Yoochun entertains Jaejoong, and joins in on the age-old accusation that Junsu’s going to end up old and alone as a beta.

“Actually, being a beta man would make you more appealing to like, girl alphas,” Changmin says. “Because they can’t get pregnant.”

Jaejoong-hyung rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay,” he dismisses Changmin. “Yoochunie.”

Yoochun turns to Jaejoong-hyung with bright eyes.

Changmin falls back so that he’s in line with Yunho.

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho starts to say, feeling for the first time like a leader, but before he can do anything, they’re being separated--Yoochun and Changmin off to voice lessons and Yunho, Junsu, and Jaejoong-hyung led back into the practice room to join everyone else.

“Junsu-yah!” Hyukjae wails, coming in close for hugs the moment he sees them. “Don’t leave me!”

“Get off, you idiot,” Junsu says, pushing fruitlessly and not at all seriously at Hyukjae’s arms, before hugging back. “Ugh, I’m not leaving you.”

“Congratulations,” Heechul-hyung says, catching Yunho’s attention instantly. “Your life _isn’t_ over after all.”

“Ha ha,” Jaejoong-hyung says, but tracks in close for a brief half hug anyway. “Thanks, Hyung.”

Yunho just swallows, the reality of it sinking in. There’s not time for him to be emotional about it, because he has to get to practice--really they’re holding it up only because their chaperones are chatting with Teacher-nim--but Heechul-hyung is Heechul-hyung, so Yunho totally has no choice but to also subject himself to being hugged and cradled and told good job.

He soaks up the attention, and for once, doesn’t let himself feel guilty for enjoying the babying. He deserves it, honestly, because today, Yunho went from despondent and convinced he was going to be sent home to his parents in a box, to being the leader of SM entertainment’s latest boy group.

It’s pretty fucking great.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/170396601930/title-my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/959207977789067265).
> 
> Comments/kudos/retweets/reblogs are <3.


	2. spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, yes JYJ are in this and yes they ~~unfortunately~~ have speaking roles HOWEVER I am a duo fan so enjoy my split feelings everybody.
> 
> Betaed by hexmen. This is our baby. All other mistakes are my own. Kinah also looked at it because she's the best. ENJOY!
> 
> Note: Hovering over vocabulary (on a browser) will bring up a box with definitions. This information can also be found in the [Primer](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/aboau).

**2\. Spark**

\--

Four months into their debut, Jaejoong-hyung has his first rut. It’s somewhat of a shock to their little makeshift system, but not entirely unexpected. Just a week prior Hyukjae came over to visit Junsu brimming with hormone-induced confidence and a new propensity for baggy jeans. He’d tried to explain the whole thing to them all, but one mention of the word ‘balls’ and they’d all aborted the conversation with the hands over their ears; they might all be men, but there were lines, and detailed descriptions about the thing rut did to the family jewels was one of them.

Donghae got called in for an emergency contract renegotiation at the insistence of his father _two weeks_ prior, and Boa finally owned up to the speculation just half a week before _that_ to confirm three things: One, she was an alpha, two, she would _not_ show you hers, and three, she would fuck you up for even _asking_ \--enjoy your early retirement.

So by the time it’s Jaejoong-hyung pacing around their tiny dormitory full of unending tension and bottled up aggression, the fact that heat season and presentation is upon 86 line is old news. Certainly the fact that Junsu, Yoochun, and Yunho had all already started in on the much less exciting and much more typical growth spurts and voice cracking of beta puberty made it all the more lackluster.

Junsu’s panicked about the voice, Changmin’s annoyed about the growth spurts, Yoochun is… Yoochun, and Yunho’s mostly dreading the fact that every call home ends in disappointed silence and him unable to muster the strength to lie to his father’s face.

Or not to his face. To his father’s voice.

It is therefore very hard for him to look at Jaejoong-hyung and not be infinitely jealous. Of course, it is also very hard for anyone to look at Jaejoong-hyung in his refusal to be bowed by biology and put on fucking sweatpants and not immediately and awkwardly decide maybe avoidance is the best way not to get slapped with a sexual harassment charge, but Yunho doesn’t really have to deal with that, because Heechul-hyung takes one look at Jaejoong-hyung one morning and whisks Yunho off for several hours of much needed alone time.

He gets sad play-by-play texts from Junsu about how Jungsoo-hyung had to stop in and take Jaejoong-hyung out for lunch and much needed ‘please do not talk about your knot in public’ etiquette lessons, keeps holding Heechul-hyung’s hand (and totally not on purpose; Yunho was even trying to _avoid_ that outcome towards the end of it), and ultimately comes home exhausted but more at peace with the entire process.

And then everything goes to complete and utter shit.

“They want to see the two of us for a meeting today,” Jaejoong-hyung says, the morning after, standing solidly in the center of their too-small kitchen.

In the corner, the rest of their band is fighting over final helpings for breakfast. Changmin appears to be losing, as always, but he’s also not making things easy for Junsu, who appears to be making the most passionate plea and play for the food. Yoochun is quietly eating when neither of them are looking. It makes something warm and fuzzy settle into the pit of Yunho’s stomach to look at them.

But then he turns back to Jaejoong-hyung, who looks even less impressed. “Yunho,” he says.

“Right, sorry,” says Yunho. “Did they say what they wanted us for?’

Junsu finally cottons onto Yoochun’s scheming and redirects his attack, which gives Changmin the opening to shovel the entire bowl of rice straight into his mouth and say through all of it, “Why are you even asking, Yunho-hyung?” He sounds less shy than usual and Yunho wants to smile in reply.

Jaejoong-hyung’s lips thin in response to the way food is practically spilling out of Changmin’s mouth, but Yunho is saved from having to deal with their fight by Yoochun.

“Yeah,” he says, disengaging from Junsu. “Are you really asking, Hyung?” He grins. “What do they always want to talk to you two about?”

He exchanges a glance with Junsu, who very suddenly looks no worse for wear.

“Yunjae,” they both chorus, and then high give, cackling.

Jaejoong-hyung rolls his eyes, annoyed. “Shut up,” he says. “You’re just jealous the fans like us the most.”

“Like to think about the two of you _doing it_ the most,” retorts Junsu, and gets another obnoxious high five from Yoochun.

Changmin looks down at the empty plate.

Yunho laughs, nervous and slightly uncertain for reasons beyond him.

“Whatever.” Jaejoong-hyung doesn’t seem particularly bothered. “It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway.”

That seems to stop the two of them in their tracks.

“Huh?” Junsu lets go of Yoochun’s hand.

“Yunjae,” Jaejoong-hyung says, voice more distasteful than it’s ever been when discussing fanservice.

Yunho’s almost taken aback, since just last month the two of them had been fake kissing on radio and laughing about it.

“What about it?” Yoochun shoves Junsu’s arm off of the table.

“It’ll have to end anyway,” says Jaejoong-hyung. “Since I’m an alpha now.”

There’s a more than uncomfortable pause.

Junsu and Yoochun exchanged worried glances.

Yunho wonders if he should call Jungsoo-hyung back with Heechul-hyung as back up this time, just to see if the combination of two older alphas might cut some of the unending tension.

Finally, Changmin speaks. “What does that have to do with anything?” the youngest starts to say, two bright spots of color appearing high on the apples of his cheeks, and Yunho very quickly gets to his feet.

“I think that’s manager-hyung,” he lies desperately, reaching out to grab Jaejoong-hyung by the hand and haul him alongside him. “We need to go.”

Changmin stares angrily down at that one point of contact with furious, almost frightening eyes, but keeps quiet.

The tension is too thick for knives.

“Whatever,” Jaejoong-hyung finally says again. “Let’s go.”

And then he’s striding off to the door with all of his newfound bluster, hand sliding out of Yunho’s grasp without even a backwards glance.

Changmin’s eyes flash again.

Yunho’s stomach turns uncomfortably.

Junsu clears his throat. “Aren’t you glad we don’t have this problem?” he says, nudging Changmin and then Yoochun. “Or I guess, not Changminnie. You’re still growing.”

Changmin scowls at that, but far less seriously than he had four months ago. “Shut up, Hyung.”

“You’ve got two full years,” Yoochun puts in, reaching out like he wants to take Changmin’s cheeks in both hands.

Changmin blushes at that, and shifts quickly out of view. “Shut _up_ , Hyung,” he says.

“Promise us you’ll still think of us when you’re all mad and prickly about your dick, Changmin-ah,” Junsu says, and ignores the way Changmin frowns and purses his lips and tries to mutter something about ‘how do you know I’m going to be an alpha anyway.’

Yunho risks a less panicked smile, relieved, and then hurries off to join Jaejoong-hyung standing in front of their shoes.

\--

The meeting goes horribly. Words like “the leader” and sentences like “you score higher than all the other pairs in the focus groups” get thrown around and Jaejoong-hyung hunches lower and lower in his seat, giving off steadily-growing angry pheromones to the point where Yunho wonders if the people next door can taste them.

He hunches in his seat and keeps his mouth firmly shut, resisting the urge to lick the roof of his mouth with all of his self-control. He’s never scored very high on Jacobson’s tests, but he’d have to be scent-blind to miss this.

One of the nameless suits says something about Jaejoong-hyung’s hair.

Jaejoong-hyung’s hands flex in his lap.

The roof of Yunho’s mouth aches sympathetically.

“I’m glad you understand,” one of the others says.

“Good meeting,” yet another agrees.

Jaejoong-hyung’s mouth is a downturned frown.

Yunho smiles as best he can without showing any of his teeth.

Jaejoong-hyung doesn’t even bother.

“Right.” If their manager is off-put by the truly menacing snarl Jaejoong-hyung’s face has pulled into, he’s not showing it. “If that’s it, I think we can go now, yes?”

“Yes.” The suits sound relieved, and Yunho understands.

Jaejoong-hyung has yet to put his teeth away.

“Great,” says their manager. “Yunho. Jaejoong.”

They’re herded back out into the car.

“So, that was good,” Yunho tries, briefly, once they’ve pulled away from the curb.

Jaejoong-hyung just sits in silence and radiates even more cloying anger.

Yunho shuts his mouth again for his own safety. _Right_.

They spend the rest of the trip pointedly not talking, although their managers do have a brief conversation about schedules. Yunho wonders how low the two of _them_ scored on  Jacobson’s tests, because neither of them seem particularly bothered by how angry Jaejoong-hyung is. But then, they’re betas.

There had been no beta kids in the scent classes he’d been forced to attend when he entered middle school, and Yunho doesn’t remember that being weird. Maybe if you were a beta--or if you were supposed to be and definitely going to be beta--you didn’t need to spend hours pouring over the thing in your mouth designed to let you know how the people around you were feeling.

Maybe Yunho should start to look forward to that--should stop focusing so much on how angry and pissed off Jaejoong-hyung is and how anxiety-provoking it feels to Yunho, and should instead focus on keeping his mouth shut and his mind off pheromones. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to taste his Dad’s disappointment the next time he came home without a rut to cap off his successful presentation as yet another Jung alpha.

It’s enough to keep Yunho busy for the rest of the incredibly awkward car ride.

By the time they get home, Jaejoong-hyung seems much less annoyed about everything, to the point where Yunho risks a few open mouthed breaths of clear, outdoor air before pulling open the door the dorm.

And then he stops, blinking, because Kim Heechul is sitting neatly on top of their sofa wearing a bright orange tank top and dark wash jeans.

Jaejoong-hyung’s aggravation rackets right back up.

That, Yunho knows, is a side effect. Donghae had told him intimately all about how Hyukjae only went into prerut when Jungsoo-hyung and Heechul-hyung started following him around like lost ducklings. Donghae had also immediately been sequestered away to finish off the end of his first formative heat alone, and was probably bored out of his mind at this point.

Yunho should probably call him sometime to make sure he’s okay.

Yunho also should probably stop getting distracted. He might miss something important, like Jaejoong-hyung trying to fight Heechul-hyung in some sort of rut-induced rage.

“Wow,” says Heechul-hyung, lips pulling back ever so slightly. “Someone’s angry.”

It’s a testament to just how far gone Jaejoong-hyung is that he doesn’t even apologize. He’d figured Jaejoong-hyung was by far the highest scoring person he’d ever met, and that was before SM forced the lot of them into mandatory sex-ed classes. Even their instructors had been mildly taken aback by just how sensitive Jaejoong-hyung was to pheromones. Usually, he’s the first to apologize for his feelings. Not today, though.

Heechul-hyung’s eyebrows raise. “Changminnie and Junsu are at vocal lessons,” he tells Yunho, ignoring Jaejoong-hyung as the younger alpha makes his way over to drop his shoes, still radiating displeasure. “In case you were worrying.”

Yunho had been wondering, but not worrying, so he opens his mouth to explain this to Heechul-hyung.

“I know how you get when you don’t see your trainee hanging about.”

Yunho’s mouth slams shut abruptly. He blushes. “Shut up.” Nobody’s told Changmin that his nickname for the first three weeks was “Yunho’s” but Heechul-hyung has never ceased to take an opportunity for taunting. “Hyung,” Yunho concedes after a pause.

Heechul-hyung’s eyes are positively sparkling.

Jaejoong-hyung lets out a noise, an angry breath, still standing enragedly over by the shoes and breaking them both out of it.

“Okay.” Heechul-hyung lifts an eyebrow. “Hello to you too, Jaejoong-ah.”

Jaejoong-hyung’s lips curl back a little, probably not at all on purpose.

Yunho winces, well and truly uncomfortable. He picks at the frays of his sweatshirt. “We had a meeting with SM,” he explains, when it becomes clear that Jaejoong-hyung is most definitely not going to.

The slightly younger boy simply crosses his arms across his chest and pouts, for lack of a less stereotypically-omega term. Yunho can’t come up with anything better under stress, but he still feels a little bad about it, and a little chastised by an imaginary mother and Shim not-his-trainee Changmin.

Heechul-hyung’s other eyebrow lifts. “Okay.”

“About, um, fanservice,” Yunho admits finally, not sure how to phrase it kindly. Or gently.

Jaejoong-hyung finishes with his shoes and makes his way back across their living room floor to stand beside Heechul-hyung, but doesn’t say anything.

Yunho can’t stand the tension. It’s somehow worse than when it was the five of them, because Junsu and Yoochun were betas and Changmin was a baby and there were no other alphas around to get pissed off at Jaejoong-hyung’s pissed off pheromones.

Heechul-hyung is the most laidback alpha Yunho’s ever met, but even he has a limit.

“Fanservice,” the older alpha says.

Jaejoong-hyung drops onto the couch next to him. “Fanservice.” He sounds like he’s bitten into something sour. “Between Yunho and I.” He scowls. “They said nothing should change.” His lips thin and pull back again, but instead of looking horrified at the state of himself, he just scowls harder. “They said I don’t look like an alpha,” he says, which unfortunately is not a lie, “even though _they_ gave me this hair.”

Heechul-hyung makes a show of titling this way and that to examine his own nearly-too-long hair. “Right,” he says.

Yunho has the sudden urge to apologize or something.

He pulls harder at the loose threads at the hem of his sweatshirt.

“I’m going to ignore that bullshit about hair,” says Heechul-hyung finally. “But run that last thing by me again?”

Jaejoong-hyung drops his feet on the coffee table and Heechul-hyung knocks them off without even pausing.

Nobody says anything.

Finally, Heechul-hyung sighs. “Make yourself at home, Yunho-yah.”

Yunho startles guiltily, realizing he’s still standing in the middle of their entryway with his shoes on. He ducks his head and heads over the shoe racks, flushing, and sets about unlacing his sneakers.

“Idiot.” Heechul-hyung sounds charmed.

Jaejoong-hyung scoffs.

There’s a pause, then a thumping sound, probably Heechul-hyung shoving Jaejoong-hyung’s feet back off the coffee table.

“Okay, what is your problem?”

Yunho hides a smile with a lowered head, secretly pleased Heechul-hyung’s the one who’d come over. Jungsoo-hyung’s been nice about everything with the unasked-for advice and dinner meetings, but for some reason he refuses to discipline Jaejoong-hyung, which Yunho realizes sounds harsher than it really need be, but honestly. Yunho’s starting to be grateful he’s not the one dealing with this.

He finishes with his shoes and comes to stand back over by the couch.

Jaejoong-hyung is motionless, anger coming off him in waves.

Heechul-hyung seems to give up on him, turning towards Yunho.

“They said the fans like us,” Yunho explains, shrugging. “And that it would look weird if I was the omega.” His throat nearly closes up around the words, but somehow he gets them out. “Because I’m the leader.”

“And I have this hair,” mutters Jaejoong-hyung at the same time Yunho concedes, “and because of Jaejoong-hyung’s hair,” and Heechul-hyung slaps Jaejoong-hyung’s feet off the couch onto the floor and says, very loudly, “for the last time shut up about the hair thing.”

“Hyung!” Jaejoong-hyung’s voice goes up and he finally exhibits an emotion beyond hormone-induced anger. “It’s not _fair_.”

Yunho swallows, distinctly uncomfortable. He hadn’t thought it was that big of a deal. But then, maybe that was because he wasn’t the one being asked to act completely counter to his nature. He’d been an alpha next year for sure, and then it wouldn’t even be pretend. Maybe then it’d be okay; maybe Jaejoong-hyung would finally get over it.

Heechul-hyung is rolling his eyes, but he’s not saying any of that, even though Yunho can tell he’s definitely thinking it. He’d feel bad, since he hates to see Heechul-hyung bite his tongue. Especially since two years ago he wouldn’t; but then, two years ago, Heechul-hyung wasn’t in the running for SM’s latest boyband.

“It’s for Japan,” Jaejoong-hyung says, bitingly.

Yunho will admit, it’s much less intimidating when it’s not just the two of them in a car or an office room. He just sounds like he’s throwing a tantrum.

Heechul-hyung certainly seems to agree with that assessment. His eyes are already rolling before Jaejoong-hyung finishes.

“Actually, they’re not sure if they want us to go to Japan or not,” Yunho tries.

“What?” Jaejoong-hyung puts his feet right back on the coffee table.

Heechul-hyung shoves them off without even blinking, and then keeps one hand around Jaejoong-hyung’s left ankle.

“The country thing,” Yunho says. “They’re not sure which one--”

“No, the couple thing,” Heechul-hyung interjects, shooting Yunho a quick apologetic look before turning more fully to face Jaejoong-hyung. “Jaejoong-ah.”

“Why does it matter which country it is?” says Jaejoong-hyung.

“It doesn’t,” says Yunho, and frowns. “That’s kind of my point?”

“Whatever.” Jaejoong-hyung looks like he’s seriously considering fighting the grip Heechul-hyung has on his feet. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I just think you’re being  a little stereotypical about all this,” says Yunho.

Jaejoong-hyung audibly rolls his eyes. “This entire _thing_ is stereotypical,” he says, which. He has Yunho there. He hadn’t thought it was until they’d started talking about the breadth of Yunho’s shoulders and his tendency toward over-control.

Heechul-hyung is looking between the two of them with barely concealed takenabackness.

Yunho’s skin itches. ‘I’m just saying you don’t have to be mean about it,” he mutters, not because he’d rather not fight it out, but mostly because he’s tired and the meeting hadn’t exactly been fun and games for him. “I’m excited we’re going to promote abroad.”

“Yeah, okay,” says Jaejoong-hyung.

Heechul-hyung lets go of his ankle as if burned. “Wow,” he says. “Jaejoong-ah. Have they put you on pills yet?”

Jaejoong-hyung’s mouth opens.

And then closes.

And then, finally, he looks guilty.

Yunho doesn’t even feel bad about that.

Heechul-hyung just looks smug. “Taking that as a no.”

“You’re not supposed to for the first one.” Jaejoong-hyung’s voice is small and cowed. “It’s bad for you.”

Heechul-hyung’s eyes roll so quickly Yunho almost misses it, but he doesn’t give his usual spiel about how suppressants period are bad for you. SM mandates the high-grade ones for all their of-age idols because nothing kills a career more than an unwanted pregnancy, and nothing breeds pregnancy more than heat season. Literally.

Jaejoong-hyung’s head bows. “Sorry, Hyung,” he says quietly. “Yunho.”

Yunho is inclined to forgive him just because it’s so good to have it all be _over_.

“You shouldn’t let it go to your head, Kim,” says Heechul-hyung, but he shoves Jaejoong-hyung playfully to ease the scolding. “You’re not invincible.”

Jaejoong-hyung flushes. “I don’t think I’m invincible.”

“Yeah.” Heechul-hyung waggles his eyebrows, before darting a quick glance downwards. “That’s _not_ what your dick thinks,” he says, and Yunho very suddenly feels like he’s intruding. He should leave and go check in on Yoochun, who somehow has not emerged from the bedrooms at all to see what’s about, but he also doesn’t want to, because this is the closest he’s ever gotten to a play-by-play of what it’s like to be an alpha.

“My dick doesn’t think I’m invincible,” Jaejoong-hyung snaps, still flushing, at the same time their front door swings open to reveal Changmin, Junsu, and their long suffering manager-hyung.

Of the three of them, the last looks the most unbothered by the turn of the conversation.

Junsu is the first to collect himself. “Why are we talking about Jaejoong-hyung’s dick?” he says, kicking his shoes off and pushing them haphazardly into line by the others.

“We are not talking about my dick,” Jaejoong-hyung says.

“Because he’s thinking with it,” Heechul-hyung interjects.

“Oh, gross,” says Junsu. “Why would anyone want to think about Jaejoong-hyung’s dick. Let alone through it.”

“I am not thinking through my dick!” shouts Jaejoong-hyung.

“Good, because that’s gross,” says Junsu.

Changmin eyes the two of them grudgingly, before making his way over to the disarray that are Yunho’s shoes (which--he’d tried, honestly) and Junsu’s shoes.

“Who’d want to talk about your dick?” says Junsu.

“Your mom,” retorts Jaejoong-hyung instantly, which is as good as a war declaration and ends with Heechul-hyung very gracefully extricating himself from the impromptu puppy pile.

Yunho turns towards Changmin, guilt heavy in the tilt of his shoulders. Their youngest waves him off with an oddly resigned look to his shoulders.

“You take that _back!_ ” Junsu takes an elbow to the gut.

“You take it back!” Jaejoong-hyung nearly loses an eye.

Heechul-hyung shakes his head. “And that’s my cue to leave,” he says. “Kims.” He gets no response. “Shim.”

Changmin smiles at him briefly.

“Yunho.”

Yunho should roll his eyes at how he’s the only one addressed by first name. Yunho instead feels all kinds of warm and fuzzy despite himself. “Heechul-hyung.” He steps forward to take the man’s outstretched hand.

There’s a small crash over by the shoes.

“Sorry,” says Changmin when Yunho glances over at him. His face looks weird, but he goes over to perch on the side of the couch before Yunho can so much as open his mouth. Immediately he’s pulled into the fight, Jaejoong-hyung redirecting immediately when faced with the youngest among them, and Junsu glad for the small reprieve. “It’s just hormones,” Changmin tries to say, probably about Jaejoong-hyung’s longstanding anger, but the conversation has well and truly devolved to the point where no one but Yunho probably gets it, so Jaejoong-hyung just hauls him in for cuddles.

For a moment, Changmin looks livid, and then resigned.

Yunho’s chest twinges.

“Bye, Yunho,” says Heechul-hyung, tightening his grip on Yunho’s hand.

Yunho turns back towards him, frowning.

“I’m not going to disappear.”

Yunho frowns harder. “Don’t make fun of me,” he says.

Heechul-hyung just grins.

“Betas are clearly better,” Junsu is saying loudly from the background.

“Why, because you can get pregnant whenever?” Jaejoong-hyung fires back immediately, pausing in what Yunho swears is midlick of the left side of Changmin’s face.

“You mean you can get people pregnant whenever,” Changmin says, shoving Jaejoong-hyung away and wiping angrily at his face.

“Actually you’re both wrong,” says Heechul-hyung, trying to let go of Yunho’s hand; Yunho doesn’t let him, not entirely certain why, but Heechul-hyung stays holding onto him anyway.  “Only beta women can get pregnant whenever.”

“Yes, thank you for that, Hyung, I have had sex-ed,” says Jaejoong-hyung quickly.

“Oooh, sex-ed,” says Junsu. “Are you going to have to take it again?”

“Wouldn’t it just be me and Hyukjae?” asks Jaejoong-hyung, finally releasing the still elbowing Changmin.

“And Boa-noona,” their youngest says, still swiping at his left cheek. “Don’t forget about Boa-noona.”

Jaejoong-hyung gets an odd look on his face.

“Trust me, that is not a problem,” Junsu hurries to say, and Yunho swallows reflexively.

Thank God. Jaejoong-hyung and Changmin have only barely managed to make peace over the less than stellar first meeting they all had with each other’s parents standing outside their new dorm holding keys. As Changmin put it, if Jaejoong-hyung wanted to be a dick about his mom’s dick, that was his problem; as Jaejoong-hyung put it, we were all thinking it; as Yunho had Jaejoong-hyung put it, it he was sorry and no hard feelings.

Junsu looks nervously at Yunho.

“You’re just jealous that Changminnie gets to have the talk from his mom,” Yunho blurts out desperately, not at all interested in rehashing any of that. “And instead you’re stuck with Woojin-hyung.”

Jaejoong-hyung falls back against the couch cushions and groans. “Don’t remind me,” he says.

“I am right here,” says Woojin-hyung, not looking up from his cellphone.

All of them ignore him.

“Woojin-hyung is nice, though,” points out Junsu. “Aren’t you always saying that?”

“I’d rather get the talk from literally anyone else,” says Jaejoong-hyung. “Can you imagine Woojin-hyung saying the word semen?”

Changmin’s mouth opens, horrified, and he immediately whacks Jaejoong-hyung across the face with a pillow.

“Thank you for that,” says Heechul-hyung, and Yunho jumps because he had forgotten he was still there. And that he was still holding onto the older boy’s hand. He flushes, letting it go.

Heechul-hyung just smirks a little more and bows his head, finally heading for their door to leave. “Personally, I would like to forget I ever had to meet with Woojin-hyung about the intricacies of washing behind one’s testicles.”

“Oh my God hit me again!” shouts Jaejoong-hyung.

Changmin and Junsu very quickly oblige. Changmin gets him in the eye. Junsu nearly takes the breath out of him.

Jaejoong-hyung swears, Heechul-hyung clasps a hand to Woojin-hyung’s shoulder on his way out the door, and Yoochun wanders out several minutes later to join in on the impromptu five-way pillow fight.

Later that night, after dinner, Jaejoong-hyung catches Yunho washing dishes. “I really am sorry about earlier,” he says, grabbing onto a towel and taking the newly cleaned bowl out of Yunho’s hand. “I was out of line.”

Yunho blinks. “Jaejoong-hyung.”

“You don’t have to call me hyung, Yunho,” Jaejoong-hyung--Jaejoong says, rubbing harshly at the bowl. “It’s like barely a few days.”

Yunho concedes that point. He picks what he thinks is Changmin’s bowl and applies a liberal amount of soap.

“Anyway, it’s not a big deal that we still have to do the couple thing.”

Yunho pauses.

“You’re going to be an alpha anyway,” Jaejoong says, and shoves Yunho with one shoulder.

Yunho stares down at a crack in the porcelain and doesn’t know what to say.

Jaejoong sets the bowl down on the drying rack and blinks. “Yunho?”

Yunho shakes himself out of it and turns on the water. “Right,” he says.

Jaejoong is looking at him funnily. “You don’t think you’re going to be a beta, right?” he says.

Yunho turns to him, appalled. “No!” he says, and feels bad immediately, but Jaejoong just takes the newly cleaned bowl looking relieved.

“So we’ll both be alphas,” he says. “It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Yunho says, stomach turning itself in knots. “I mean--”

“Shut _up_ , Junsu-hyung,” comes Changmin’s voice, before the maknae himself is wandering into the kitchen and practically shoving Jaejoong hyung in his haste to get to the bowl he’s drying. “I’m just worried that they’re not going to clean them to Yoochun-hyung’s standards.” He takes the bowl from Jaejoong, and then, when Yunho sets down the mug he’s finished rinsing, grabs that one too.

“That’s a fair point, I’ll take it,” Junsu calls, and then there’s the sound of flesh hitting flesh. “Ow--it’s true!”

Changmin refuses to meet anyone’s eyes, snatching the towel from Jaejoong without pause.

Yunho stares down at where their hands intersect on the mug without blinking.

Jaejoong finally clears his throat.

“What?” Changmin’s ears are blushing.

Yunho can only tell because there’s really no space for all of them in the kitchen.

“This is my mug.” Changmin is lying.

“Right.” Jaejoong sounds dubious.

“I had to make sure you were doing it to Yoochun-hyung’s standards.”

“Right.” Jaejoong sounds even _more_ dubious.

“You were doing it wrong.” Changmin is definitely lying.

“I can actually dry dishes,” points out Yunho.

There’s a pause.

“Yeah right,” says Jaejoong first. He reaches for the bowl Changmin’s abandoned in favor of scrubbing the mug.

“You’re kidding,” agrees Changmin, not at all willing to concede the bowl.

“You’ve got soap in my eye!” says Yunho, when the ensuing scramble ends with water splashing everywhere. “Jaejoong!”

“How is it my fault--clearly it’s _his_ fault--” One of Jaejoong’s elbows somehow manages to get Yunho in the cheekbone, which makes no sense, given Changmin’s practically sandwiched in between the two of them.

Yunho tilts his head out of the fray and debates cutting his losses. It’s his turn to do the chores and if he leaves he’s going to get massacred but staying seems more hassle than it’s worth. “I am going to go _blind_ \--!”

“Oh you _baby_ \--!” Changmin almost sounds amazed at his own gall.

“You did not just say that.” Jaejoong’s back straightens.

“I think he said that,” puts in Yunho, risking a hand into the sink.

Jaejoong’s nostrils flare. “Changmin-ah,” he says slowly, reaching in to submerge both hands in the soapy water. “Respect--”

“Um, I’m just going to go now,” Changmin tries to say, setting down the mug and trying to back away.

Yunho shoves in close at the same time as Jaejoong, cementing the maknae sandwich.

“--Your elders,” Jaejoong finishes, and pounces.

The dishes, and the kitchen, and Yunho, Changmin, and Jaejoong, do not end up very dry.

\--

The rest of the year passes uneventfully.

SM starts finalizing their decision to debut Hyukjae, Sungmin-hyung, Heechul-hyung, Jungsoo-hyung, and assortment of other trainees in an unnamed, massive boyband. Yunho knows a few of the people involved--Youngwoon-hyung, Jongwoon-hyung, Siwon--but it’s only on good days he can manage more than those few. On bad days, Yunho spends precious free time in the bathroom quizzing himself in the mirror in case TVXQ bombs and he has to go back into the trainee pool and is forced to teach all of them how to dance.

They attend the Golden Melody awards in Taiwan to perform for one of the first times, and it’s the most nerve-wracking yet somehow beautiful moment in their very short careers. Yunho and Jaejoong get put in a car together, but that can be excused as an age thing instead of a couple thing. Yoochun still teases them about it and Junsu still rolls his eyes about it and Changmin is as always silent about it.

In October they have a brief discussion about adding new members, but the fans make things larger than they ever needed to be and their parents come in to sign updated more explicit contracts to take care of it, and Yunho comes into 2005 feeling confident in his bandmates and his career and his future.

And then they fly to Bora Bora to film a music video, spend most of their free time naked or watching other people be naked, and on the plane ride home, Yunho starts to feel weird.

Feverish.

Like his skin is too tight.

Exhausted, yet somehow unable to sleep.

Changmin’s the first one to notice.

“Hyung?” he says softly, peeking around the manager they stuck him next to. It took maybe two flights for SM to realize that seating the five of them even remotely together was a recipe for disaster--they’d either end up with a scandal, or they’d be banned from flying with the airline. More often than not Changmin and Yunho end up stuck on either side of a manger while Yoochun and Junsu have to be put in separate aisles and Jaejoong ends up in the same row as Yoochun because they focus on songwriting instead of pranking.

Yunho had been resting against the window shade with his sunglasses pulled down, but he lifts his head to look at Changmin with a polite smile. He pushes the glasses up onto his head.

He feels awful. He’s definitely, definitely coming down with something.

“Are you okay?” Changmin starts to say.

“Have you got an STD?” interjects Junsu, popping up from behind Changmin gleefully and nearly giving the manager who’s fallen asleep next to Yunho a heart attack.

Changmin not so kindly stomps on Junsu’s foot. “Don’t be stupid, Hyung,” he says. “You need to have sex to have an STD.”

“I could have had sex,” says Yunho quickly, and wow he really must be sick, because now the rest of their team is stirring, and their manager is choking at _him_.

Rather unfortunately this is their return flight, but rather luckily, they have a stopover. Maybe no one around them can speak Korean.

“Wow,” Changmin says, seemingly before he can help himself, and then looks immediately apologetic.

Yunho waves him off, head aching. Whatever illness he’s caught has progressed from mild body aches right into debilitating migraines, and Yunho really cannot afford to be out of commission. He’s U-Know Yunho. U-Know Yunho does not get _sick_.

Jung Yunho can hardly keep his eyes open against the glare of the fluorescent bulbs on the plane.

Neither Junsu nor Changmin comment when Yunho knocks his glasses back down over his eyes. The dimming of the overhead lights does nothing to help with the headache.

Yunho is so glad they have limited schedules in Seoul before they’re due back to Tokyo. He can’t be out of commission for more than a day, but hopefully one day will be enough to get him back on his feet.

In the seat next to him, their manager seems confident enough to go back to sleep, tugging the sleeping mask down over his eyes again.

“Hyung.” Changmin is still hovering over his own seat, hands turning anxiously in his lap.

“I’m fine, Changminnie,” Yunho says. His voice doesn’t sound raspy or anything, but some reason even talking feels like a lot.

“I still think it’d be funny if it was an STD,” mutters Junsu, but he seems bored of the conversation, and Yunho watches him weave around Changmin to go back to pester Yoochun and Jaejoong.

Changmin settles back down into his seat on the other side of Manager-hyung. The younger boy pushes his hair out of his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Yunho tells him, because he feels like he ought to. “It’s probably just the altitude.”

Changmin frowns, not buying it.

“I’ll sleep as soon as we get home,” Yunho lies. “It’ll be okay, Changmin-ah.”

Changmin’s lips pull.

Yunho fights a yawn. “I’m probably just tired,” he tries. “Or maybe I ate something funny. I’ll be better once we’re home.

“It’s colder back home,” points out Changmin, but he seems to be settling.

Yunho has a sudden thought of disobeying Manager-hyung completely and forcing the man to switch seats with him, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, only to be replaced by yet another aching migraine.

It lasts the full flight, and Yunho not for the first time wishes he’d thought to take painkillers on the plane.

\--

It’s cold in Seoul and Yunho is not better.

It’s heat season, so Heechul-hyung and Donghae are indisposed, but Yunho still manages to receive a truly inspiring dressing down via text message relayed over to him by Sungmin telling him off for swimming around Bora Bora naked and getting himself sick in the middle of promotion season.

Junsu captures Yunho’s phone before Yunho can even finish reading the first three lines and proceeds to read the entire mortifying conversation out loud, interjecting with his own annoying commentary--“For the last time, Junsu-hyung, you can’t get STD’s without fucking fucking.” “Changmin-ah your _language--_ ” “Oh, _fuck_ off--”--and also to text Hyukjae telling him that he takes it all back and if he wants to defy his parents and marry Lee Donghae that’s all well and good since Lee Donghae is far more badass than Junsu had initially assumed.

“You saw what he did to my jacket,” says Yunho, dry as a bone, before demanding his phone back so that he can text Donghae his go-to reaction photo of said leather jacket, burned and bought at said Lee Donghae’s behest.

Heechul-hyung’s tirade is beyond words, to the point where Junsu just passes the phone around while cackling and telling them all that he’s so glad he isn't getting stuck in a group with him, Hyukjae, and whomever else.

Whatever illness Yunho’s contracted seems to have evolved to include lightheadedness and a sudden urge to curl up in a pile of blankets in his bed, but despite their lax schedules Yunho cannot afford to lie around in bed, so he has his manager book him an IV drip in the hospital and ignores the way every atom of his body is screaming at him not to stand up for long periods of time.

Junsu and Yoochun head off to a vocal lesson without minor complaint, Jaejoong gets saddled with an impromptu fitting for their next music program, and Changmin vanishes off to visit his parents or something.

Which leaves Yunho by himself, antsy for reasons beyond him, and very suddenly fighting the urge to take a shower.

He’d forgotten to put his coat in his carryon when they got off the plane, and while he hadn’t wanted to wander through the airport in someone else’s jacket (despite Jaejoong’s annoying valid point that it would help them with the fanservice stuff) he’d conceded to borrowing Yoochun’s hoodie in the car.

For some reason that hadn’t helped at all, and Yunho had spent the ride home feeling even more unsettled, as well as like Changmin was two seconds from murdering Yoochun for some reason.

Even Jaejoong had shot their songwriter a dirty look on their way out of the car.

It had been weird, and Yunho was thankful he’s home alone now.

His phone beeps. Yunho startles.      

 _Yunho-yah_ , the message reads. _Car will be here in five_.

Yunho blinks, uncertain how it’s already somehow been thirty minutes, but he gets to his feet to search out his own outerwear and hat so that he’s not conspicuous for his trip to the hospital. He’s hoping they’ll give him fluids, dress him down for lack of sleep and overworking, and then he’ll be back on his way feeling well enough for lack of sleep and overworking, because at present, all Yunho wants to do is sleep and never work again.

 _Yunho-yah_. It’s his manager again. _Are you coming_?

Yunho blinks down at his phone again, because since when has it been five minutes, and then he goes to bend down for his shoes and just sort of. Lists right on over.

The last thing he thinks to himself is those are Changmin’s shoes, not his, and they’re not even the same shoe size.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr master post](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/170661305105/my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you-author) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/961727528242241537)
> 
> Comments, reblogs, retweets, kudos: THE BEST THING EVER.


	3. heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by hexmen. This is our baby. All other mistakes are my own. Kinah also looked at it because she's the best. ENJOY!

**3\. Heat**

\--

Yunho wakes up and immediately thinks he’s still dreaming. Everything is floating and nice and lovely and he’s dreaming. He has to be, because his father is here.

His father is standing to his left, not touching him, and shouting in whispers to his mother, who is also here. She might even be crying silently, which, doubly a dream. Yunho’s mother never cries. Not in public, at least.

Only, she’s holding Yunho’s hand, and the press of her perfectly manicured nails is real and prickling and rapidly bringing feeling back into the rest of Yunho, lying prostrate across what he quickly realizes is a hospital bed. Only that fits--the last thing he remembers is his manager texting him to get ready to go to the hospital. Maybe it’s just an incredibly realistic dream. Maybe it’s just because the last thought he had was of the hospital; his subconscious has put him here _because_ of that.

Doing… Yunho’s not sure what, actually.

His brow furrows.

“You fainted,” a voice says helpfully, which is exactly how Yunho imagines a dream would go. He’s read that English book about the girl who got turned into a rabbit chasing after cake or… something. Didn’t a giant cat help her out? Maybe, if Yunho can figure out how to turn his head, he’ll turn and see his own giant grinning helpful cat.

Or maybe it was a caterpillar.

Yunho turns his head.

A man who very much is not a caterpillar or giant, grinning cat (thank God) is standing to his right holding a clipboard wearing a long white coat. He’s got a nametag, a high black turtleneck, and a wide, pleasing smile. He must be Yunho’s doctor. He also looks supremely awkward.

Yunho thinks maybe he ought to smile back.

He’s having a lot of trouble getting his facial muscles to respond.

His doctor’s smile slips slightly.

Yunho turns his head again.

On the bedside table is a pitcher of water and a bouquet of what looks like yellow flowers, bound together into a neat bundle with what looks like half a tag and card ripped off. Yunho finds himself hunting for the hospital trash can automatically and isn’t that just the way dreams work. Everything is going too perfectly and seamlessly and logically.

Although he has no idea why the flowers are there.

When his doctor sees him looking, the man almost seems to cower a little, and Yunho’s eyes continue their path to his father without even pausing.

Jung Yanghyun is a formidable presence in and of himself, but currently even Yunho’s mother is refusing to meet the man’s eyes. They look like they’ve both been called away from work for this hospital visit, yet somehow still they’ve managed to coordinate colors.

It’s a little too on the nose for a dream.

Yunho’s heart sinks slightly.

Manager-hyung, who Yunho only now realizes is also here, and who seems to have been bearing most of Yunho’s father’s whispered shouting given the slope to his shoulders and slight shake to his hands, clears his throat. He somehow manages to look more uncomfortable than the doctor.

Yunho immediately feels bad for him. “How long was I out?” he asks, voice rough and far-away sounding. God. How long was he out _indeed_? His throat feels like he hasn’t had water in months.

“A few hours,” says his doctor. “Your manager rushed you right here.”

That’s good; Yunho was worried he’d missed schedules. It’s also a little worrying, since the fans have started to panic when they so much as get a whiff of any of them in the hospital, even if it’s just for a pick-me-up.

“There was no ambulance,” Manager-hyung is quick to put in, head bowing towards Yunho.

Yunho’s father pulls up short, seemingly finished whisper-shouting with Yunho’s mother, and turns hard eyes on Manager-hyung.

The man stands firm.

Yunho is in absolute fucking _awe_ of the man. He’s a fucking _beta_.

“No one knows we’re here,” says Manager-hyung.

Yunho is comforted for only a brief second. “But--”

“The others know we’re here,” amends Manager-hyung. “We told them it was stress.” He appears to be directing the last bit to Yunho’s parents, who both break into even more angry communication, though wordlessly now.

His mother’s eyebrows raise threateningly.

His father goes pacing off under the window.

Yunho blinks.

“The stress of Bora Bora?” he manages to point out, tone dubious.

“The stress of overwork,” his doctor corrects, and Yunho sighs.

He has a very visceral sense of déjà vu, and then a very distinct memory of wondering when he’d be getting his dressing down for overworking.

“The stress of work,” says Manager-hyung, with more than slight emphasis on the lack of descriptor. “And flying to Bora Bora certainly did not help.”

Yunho’s head tilts.

“The climate change.” Manager-hyung’s lips purse. “And all the… swimming.”

Yunho’s cheeks flush despite themselves. He certainly remembers all the swimming.

“It’s a wonder your body even had enough energy,” says his doctor, and Yunho is glad for the interruption.

He turns to face the man more fully, taking in the fall of his artfully swept bangs and faintly showing ears. He reminds Yunho of Changmin. He’s also far too sparkly at the moment, and Yunho’s eyes narrow.

He must be dreaming. Since when is he this focused on things like other men’s ears? Changmin’s aside; he has a reason to be interested in Changmin’s; Changmin’s are part of TVXQ’s brand… or… something.

This is weird.

Yunho feels _weird_.

Yunho’s doctor is still talking, something more about the overworking thing, with dark eyes darting over towards Manager-hyung. “What with all the stress due to overwork--” the man says, not kindly at all, and Manager-hyung coughs loudly.

“Yes, we were all shocked.” His shoulders have gone up and he looks almost cowed.

Yunho flicks his eyes over towards his still silently glaring parents, before addressing his doctor. “Enough energy for what?”

And isn’t that the question of the hour. Yunho’s thinking the answer is probably the flight home and the airport itself, but it could also be the MV shoot, since they’d been out in the sun for nearly the entire trip, lip syncing and running choreography. The MV shoot makes the most sense, only, when Yunho glances down towards the bedside, the bouquet of flowers swim back into focus. Yellow flowers. Poppies. _Success_. Yunho’s throat bobs.

He must be a beta. That’s the only explanation that makes sense. You only give yellow poppies in celebration of presentation, and his parents are far too on edge for this to be happy news. He must be the first of the Jung men to be a beta in years, generations, even. That’s the only thing that makes any shred of sense. He must have presented last year along with the rest of 86line, and the lingering hope that’d he’d turn out to be an extremely late bloomer must just be that: lingering, fruitless hope.

Yunho must be a beta.

Yunho is suddenly grateful for the fact that he’s laid up in a bed.

His doctor darts another odd look towards Yunho’s parents and manager, before turning fully to face Yunho again.

“For a heat,” the man says finally, with the utter calm of a medical professional versed in the art of bad news. “You’re not too old for a first heat, but usually we only see delays like this if the person is severely malnourished or under pressure.”

“Or naturally a late bloomer,” says Yunho’s mother suddenly. “I was a late bloomer.” She says the last bit under her breath, but Yunho still can’t help but hear or feel sudden vicious anger. It’s her fault, then. It must be.

“Or naturally a late bloomer,” says his doctor. And then he keeps going, rambling on about stress tests and environmental factors and even the supposed effects this could have on Yunho’s overall fertility (little to none, supposedly, but Yunho doesn’t care--Yunho doesn’t want to hear the word ‘fertility’ attached to his name _ever_ again--) to the point where Yunho should probably listen or something, but it’s all he can do to focus on those first three words.

 _For a heat_.

Yunho’s in heat.

Yunho’s world. Tilts.

“I want a non-disclosure,” his father barks.

“Honey,” his mother hisses.

“It’s perfectly fine,” his doctor continues, ignoring them both. “You’re what--twenty?”

“Nineteen,” Yunho manages to produce, mind not too far gone for simple subtraction.

“Nineteen,” accepts his doctor. “As I said, that’s not too late for a first heat--”

Yunho’s father and Yunho make simultaneous punched sounds, and the man stumbles over his words.

“For a first… it’s not as late as it could be, and given your circumstances, everything should be fine.” He manages a smile.

Yunho can’t so much as blink back. “Fine,” he repeats.

“Normal,” the man is quick to rephrase, clearly following some sort of script.

Yunho looks at him, chin half hidden behind that turtleneck, and wonders if he was chosen specifically for the softness of his smile and the surety of this words.

And then his stomach drops, because the sudden focus on how pretty the man is--the _stranger_ is--makes horrific sense. Yunho’s nostrils flare before he can stop himself and he nearly bites through his own tongue in his haste to keep from tasting the air. He doesn’t need to know what designation his doctor is. It’s clear by the way the man refuses to bow to Yunho’s father, to his manager.

It’s clear by how Yunho’s mother angles her body away from him and towards Yunho’s father.

Yunho worries he’s going to be sick.

“The contract still stands,” his father is in the middle of saying when Yunho tunes back in. “No new members. Or getting rid of old members. And the full thirteen years.”

Yunho thinks manager-hyung bows, but he can’t be sure.

“And I want him on suppressants--high grade.”

There is a buzzing in Yunho’s ears.

“We don’t recommend suppressing the first heat,” says his doctor, apologetic, but firm. “The effects can be harmful.”

“I don’t care,” snaps his father.

Yunho flinches.

His mother frowns. “Jung Yanghyun,” she scolds, tone brooking no argument. “Yunho can stay here until the--until it breaks.” Her worlds slip only slightly with a quick look towards Yunho, and Yunho doesn’t know what she finds in his face, but whatever it is has her face stuttering through rapid-fire emotions too quick for him to parse. He gets sadness, regret, maybe, and then startling, unwavering love and affection. And determination.

It unearths a memory from long ago, stumbling on the playground having been pushed by one of the older boys, and his baby sister picking up stones to _throw_ at them.

“You fell,” his mother told them, face firm and lips pressed tight in a thin line. “You both got into a fight and you fell.”

“Yes, mother,” Yunho and Jihye and chorused. And then the playground incident wasn’t nearly as momentous as Yunho falling off a roof or surviving an entire bookshelf.

“Until it breaks,” says his mother, pulling Yunho right back out of the past as quickly as she’d sent him there. “He’s staying until then.”

“They have schedules.” Manager-hyung sounds guilt-ridden. “They have to fly to Japan in two weeks.”

“Jaejoong is an _alpha_ ,” Yunho’s mother snaps. “I will not have them in the same house until it breaks.”

Yunho doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t have room for more than the striking realization that he and his mother have never had more in common.

“The flights are already booked,” apologizes Manager-hyung.

“That’s why he needs to be on suppressants,” cuts in Yunho’s father. “Dear--”

Yunho’s mother doesn’t so much as flinch. “Not until next year.”

Maybe fertility wasn’t the only thing Yunho inherited from his mother.

“Dear,” says his father again, and Yunho’s mother turns on her husband with blazing eyes.

“Yanghyun--”

“It’s already broken,” interjects the doctor, drawing everyone’s eyes towards him suddenly.

Yunho takes advantage of the brief silence to take in grateful gulps of air.

“Given the considerable strain that his body has been under.” He shoots Manager-hyung an ugly look, before crossing to fluff Yunho’s pillows and pour him a glass from the bedside pitcher.

Yunho takes the water eagerly, only when he sets it down he has to look at the congratulatory poppies, and then he just wants to cry.

The glass thuds onto the bedside table in the tense silence.

His doctor’s face goes briefly darker, before smoothing back into polite firmness. “Given the amount of stress he’s been under, it’s typical for this heat to be a small one.” He eyes Yunho’s father and manager. “I am assuming you’ll be prescribing suppressants next year?”

“Absolutely,” says his father.

“It’s company policy,” apologizes his manager.

“I see,” says his doctor. He looks like he wants to say more, but then he seems to think better of it. “Regardless, I am certain that Yunho-ssi should be able to leave the hospital in less than forty-eight hours.”

“Just in case,” his mother says, when it looks like his father is going to protest. Yunho almost feels comforted, but she’s too preoccupied with wrangling her husband to do more than half smile in his direction.

He supposes it’s good that he’s too overwhelmed by the turn of events and the smell of generic, disinfectant-ridden hospital to do more than see his father’s disappointment. Yunho doesn’t know what he’d do if he had to taste it too, thick and cloying and smothering all other senses.

“I’m going to sleep now,” Yunho decides, when it becomes clear no one else is going to say anything.

He closes his eyes before anyone can.

Maybe when he wakes up, this will all have been a terrible, terrible nightmare.

(It isn’t. Yunho breaks his promise himself for all of five minutes, curled miserably in the middle of his hospital bed trying to focus on how guilty he feels for betraying his grandfather’s memory and the vow he made to himself two years ago. Afterwards, he drinks nearly all of the water on his bedside and doesn’t throw away the flowers.)

His parents leave before the morning on the second day, with baleful eyes and insistences on non-disclosures and contract renegotiation from his father, and a quick, warming hug and gently rolling eyes from his mother.

Manager-hyung assures Yunho in the car ride back to the dorm that no one but Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim, Kim Youngmin-ssi, and several other need to know members of TVXQ’s staff have been informed. He also apologizes profusely but tells Yunho that from now on he and Jaejoong will be taking high grade prescription suppressants.

“We can’t be too careful,” he says.

Yunho just sits in silence while the world turns.

\--

It takes Yunho a good three minutes to work himself up to opening the door to the dorm.

Officially, Yunho had fatigue brought on from overwork and had needed fluids and some doctor-mandated sleep and would be fine for their upcoming schedules in Japan.

Unofficially, Yunho has to go explain to Jaejoong why the suppressants the older boy was going to be downing all throughout heat season were very suddenly going to be the expensive, higher grade kind with bigger side effects and prettier CF models.

When he thinks about it for too long, it makes his head spin. He has no idea how to even begin to broach the subject.

Yunho opens the door.

His bandmates are all in various states of disarray across the dorm. Jaejoong appears to be teaching Changmin Japanese (not that he needs it) and Yoochun and Junsu are parked in front of a manager’s laptop doing God knows what. Someone other than Yunho has left their shoes strewn haphazardly in their front hall, and someone (read: Changmin) hasn’t straightened them probably out of spite, although Yunho can tell on sight that the tension in their youngest’s shoulders isn’t only from the fact that their oldest is currently serenading him in badly pronounced Japanese.

They all look up when Yunho comes in.

“Hyung!” they chorus, and Yunho would normally feel proud and happy for how close they’ve all become. Now he just holds onto his shoes for longer than he’d like and wonders how he’s going to tell them.

“Yunho-hyung!” Junsu sounds like he should be bounding closer, wagging his tail or something. “You’re back!”

“You’re obnoxious,” says Yoochun, sounding bemused.

“Shut up,” retorts Junsu.

Yunho finishes with his shoes and stands. “Hi, guys,” he says. He heads over to sit down on the couch next to Changmin and Jaejoong with a yawn.

Changmin scoots over automatically, elbowing and shoving Jaejoong without even a backwards glance. He knocks the book they’d been studying with onto the floor and doesn’t so much as blink.

“You’re welcome,” Jaejoong says tonelessly, but even he smiles at Yunho when Yunho makes eye contact.

No one else says something for all of three seconds. Yunho puts his hands on his lap and tries to muster the courage to open his mouth.

“Are you dying?” blurts out Changmin, seemingly before he can help himself.

There’s a mild pause.

Yunho has nothing to say in response to that. The automatic answer is yes, because his life is over and his father is never going to be proud of or look at him again, but the truthful answer is no, it turns out that he’s just an adult like the rest of them, but all of that is too long and convoluted to say out loud. And terrifying. The thought of saying that all out loud is terrifying.

Even though he’s whispered his darkest secrets lying in hotel rooms next to Changmin. Even though Changmin is probably his closest confidant, after Jaejoong.

The rest of them appear to have moved on.

“Changmin-ah,” Jaejoong is saying, thwacking the younger boy none too gently in the arm. “Don’t say that.”

“Ow.” Changmin makes a show of the hurt, rubbing at his arm and pouting a little despite himself. He goes momentarily cross eyed in the split second that action catches up with him, and Yunho thinks equally momentarily of the way Junsu and Yoochun are too preoccupied to notice and how Jaejoong pointedly notices but then does nothing to change his behavior. The conversation continues.

“What Changminnie means to say,” Jaejoong starts to say.

“--is did you have an STD?” says Junsu, before Jaejoong can so much as finish.

The thoughts leave Yunho’s head as quickly as they’d come.

He darts a look over at Junsu and Yoochun.

They both have shit-eating grins marring their faces.

“I certainly was not,” snaps Changmin, glaring over at Junsu and looking like he’s seriously considering hurling the nearest thing at him.

Given that the nearest thing to him appears to be their Japanese textbook, Yunho worries for Junsu briefly.

Jaejoong seems to have the same idea, because the older boy gets up to close and put the book away. “You’re going to get arrested for public indecency in Tokyo,” he tells Changmin. “Your accent is appalling.”

“My accent is lovely,” protests Changmin, but the effect is somewhat ruined by his voice cracking.

He flushes immediately, horrified, but Junsu and Yoochun abandon the laptop to come over and tease and taunt him.

Changmin’s the last of them to present, but not quite late like supposedly Yunho, because Changmin is only barely eighteen. Seventeen where it counts with the law and growing taller every single day. He’s starting to give their stylists headaches.

Yoochun and Junsu will never tire of all the teasing.

The most _Jaejoong_ ever did about it was threaten to kiss him once, which ended with Changmin near tears and Yunho ferrying between the two of them trying to figure out what exactly happened. Nothing, it turned out, but Changmin wouldn’t stay alone in a room with Jaejoong for the entire weekend, and every time their managers so much as breathed about discussing kissing on radio and television programs Yunho was left trying to soothe sore feelings.

Usually, Yunho’d join in, but usually Yunho’s also on the short end of the taunting stick, because his own lack of presentation--and the insistence that he isn’t a beta and his rut would be coming the year after next _shut up_ \--makes for equally great teasing.

Which brings everything full circle, because Yunho isn’t unpresented or a beta anymore, and how the _fuck_ is he going to tell everyone?

He swallows.

“Yunho-hyung?” says Changmin.

Yunho opens his eyes, not sure when they’d closed, and finds them all looking at him with concern.

He knows the heat has broken, because that was the only reason he’d been allowed to go home. He also knows that even though it wasn’t just the overworking and lack of sleep that sent him to the hospital, those two things are still very much a part of Yunho’s life, so it’s not hard to fake fatigue and lack of energy and all the other things SM told his bandmates to help him try to save face.

Something in Yunho is already rankling at that. It reminds him of Donghae, two days post-heat raging around a practice room because one of the newer staff had said something particularly offensive about him behind his back. Hyukjae had not so quietly made a fuss about it and they never saw the man again, but Donghae had been livid.

If Yunho were less tired, if his father had been less disappointed, then maybe he’d also be angry. Maybe he’d be the one calling for contract renegotiation and proudly announcing to the world that he’s an omega now, thanks.

But the thought of it makes Yunho want to crawl home to Gwangju and never get out of bed again.

He breathes deeply through his nose.

Changmin and Yoochun are still frowning at him, even as Jaejoong and Junsu move off towards the kitchen in search of soft drinks to ease their throats.

“Sorry,” Yunho says finally. “I’m just tired.”

“You should go to sleep,” Changmin decides. “We have an early schedule tomorrow.”

Yunho nods, too tired to argue, and resigned to his fate. Maybe he just. Won’t have to talk about it. Maybe Jaejoong will just accept the suppressant change and not think anything of it, so they won’t have to do more than tease Yunho about being weak and sick all the time.

That certainly sounds nice.

And maybe tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, there’d be a better opening for talking about it, and then things could go back to normal and nothing would have to change.

There is no better opening the next day.

Nor the next.

April bleeds into May bleeds into June, and Yunho figures, it’s not really a big deal.

He doesn’t feel any different.

He doesn’t even have to act any different, because he’s still the leader and his status (like all of his bandmates’) is need-to-know with the general public anyway, and so telling the rest of the band really isn’t necessary.

So if Yoochun and Junsu start to include him in their little beta spats with Jaejoong, and Changmin comes to Yunho one evening worried to pieces that he’s going to be beta like fucking Junsu-hyung, Yunho-hyung, stop laughing that’d be awful, I know you’re cool and Yoochun-hyung is… moderately good at songwriting, but fucking Junsu-hyung laughs like a dying _walrus_ , stop _laughing_.

Well.

It’s nice.

So Yunho just doesn’t correct any of them.

Yunho doesn’t correct any of them for one year and six months.

\--

In February 2006, Changmin turns nineteen and TVXQ starts their first live tour. In March 2006, they manage to film a _Rising Sun_ MV that doesn’t end with Jaejoong on crutches, and in April 2006, Yunho and Jaejoong each gulp down their mandatory suppressants, one in front of everyone over breakfast making eyes at their watching staff, and one in a bathroom accompanied by a sorry looking manager-hyung, who smiles when he catches Yunho looking.

AVEX announces their official Japanese fan club and gives them a brief respite to call home to their families to celebrate.

Changmin takes his in the bedroom, cheeks on fire, because it’s coming up on heat season and it’s starting to get to the point where the teasing from Jaejoong, Yoochun, and Junsu has gone from ‘Changminnie our baby’ to ‘Changminnie our fourth beta’ right on schedule.

Yunho takes his in the living room, voice pitched low, and listens to his father’s opinions on everything from the way they were styled last magazine photoshoot to their latest brand deals. He’s excited about their work with the World Cup, but less than impressed to hear about Jaejoong’s DUI, and as usual, Yunho ends up getting lectured because he’s the leader.

“Are they suspending his activities?” his father says, voice gruff-sounding even as Yunho can hear the sound of his sister asking if she can have the phone after. “They better be suspending his activities.”

“Yes, father,” Yunho says, like the good filial son he is.

“Good.” And then another few less painful minutes are spent actually discussing the upcoming World Cup matches (and briefly the song they’re recording for it).

“Have you taken your pill?” the man finishes up with, and Yunho’s stomach drops.

“Yes, father,” he says quietly, and that’s that.

Heat season transitions into pre-summer without much fanfare, although Tohoshinki’s schedules grow numerous and prestigious alongside the success of their albums, and Changmin and Jaejoong get brought in for consultations and evaluations.

“That’s code for having work done,” Changmin says sourly one evening after one such meeting, and then strolls off in a huff to talk to his mother over the phone.

“What crawled up his ass and died?” asks Junsu, voice not even pitched low, staring after their maknae with his mouth downturned.

“Dunno, but he’s been like that all week,” says Yoochun.

“Oh my God,” interrupts Jaejoong, talking right over them both. “Guys.”

Yunho pokes his head up from where he’d been pouring over their schedule for the week at their kitchen island.

“Changminnie is becoming a real boy,” says Jaejoong.

There’s a beat.

“Is he Pinocchio or something?” says Junsu finally, only butchering the Disney film’s title slightly. “I didn’t know Changminnie was half fish.”

Yunho’s mouth opens.

“Ow--Hyung--”

“That’s the Little Mermaid, idiot,” says Yoochun, not even caring. “Pinnochio was the puppet.”

“Pinocchio couldn’t lie,” Yunho pipes up, trying to be helpful.

“Oh, well in that case, it can’t be Changminnie,” says Junsu. “Changminnie lies constantly.”

There’s another beat.

Changmin stands in the doorway with his cheeks on fire for all of two seconds, before making his way to join Yunho in the kitchen with as much dignity as he can manage. “Only about how much I love you all,” he says. “And about how you’re the best Hyungs in the whole wide company.”

Junsu and Yoochun grin, high fiving.

“That was sarcasm,” Changmin bites out semi-redundantly, and then crosses his arms.

Yunho’s head tilts to one side. He’s taken his pill, he’s never so much as ovulated more than that one time, but still he finds his lips parting in consideration.

“Oh my God,” Jaejoong says again, voice reaching the two of them before he does. He reaches out to grab Changmin by both angry cheeks. “Changminnie is a real boy!”

“Yah, Jaejoong-hyung, stop!” snaps Changmin, pulling away from Jaejoong still blushing. “Stop. Stop!” His voice cracks in the middle and Junsu and Yoochun burst out laughing, but Jaejoong just continues to smile beatifically up at Changmin.

Yunho blinks, because Changmin really has grown, hasn’t he? He and Yunho really are the tall couple.

“I’m glad I’m not alone anymore,” Jaejoong continues. “It was starting to feel like an all beta band.”

Junsu and Yoochun catch on at the same time as Changmin, who stops fighting Jaejoong’s grip on his cheeks and instead turns towards Yunho was blatant terror splashed across said flaming cheeks. “Hyung,” he says, though it’s more of a gasp.

Jaejoong gives a long deep breath, before pulling away from Changmin looking smug. “Yep,” he says happily. “Welcome to the club, Changmin.”

Junsu and Yoochun crowd around their maknae with bright eyes and too sharp elbows, fighting for the chance to thoroughly embarrass and sniff Changmin until he’s visibly twitching and livid, even with the puppy dog haircut.

“I don’t smell anything,” says Junsu brightly.

“You’re barely a point three,” points out Jaejoong.

“The scale doesn’t work like that,” snaps Junsu.

“Whatever, you’re practically scent blind,” continues Jaejoong.

“Can everybody stop _smelling_ me,” snaps Changmin.

“We’ll know in a week anyway,” says Yoochun. “Cause you know.” He dips his head down to blatantly stare at Changmin’s trousers.

Heat flushes up the back of Changmin’s neck with the force of a monsoon. “Shut _up_!” he shrieks and retreats away from the lot of them like a bat out of hell.

None of them follows him.

“I’m just saying,” says Yoochun.

“I’m suing you for sexual harassment,” spits Changmin.

“I wasn’t going to pants you,” says Yoochun.

“Good idea,” says Junsu.

“You’re all awful,” says Changmin, but unlike two years ago, Yunho thinks he doesn’t mean it.

Yunho also doesn’t have words for what he feels about this. He scores higher than Junsu and Yoochun by virtue of being a goddamned omega, but he’s not about to risk his façade by opening his mouth and fucking inhaling Changmin’s hair or anything.

Besides as Yoochun so crudely put it, there’s no point in fussing over it now; none of them are on Jaejoong’s level, and also, in a few days, Changmin really will be obviously one or the other.

He bandmates have stopped picking on the youngest and instead are gathered around their Japanese television watching an old episode of One Piece.

Yunho folds his feet underneath him and tries not to think too hard about all of it.

\--

The first sign is the sweatpants. Changmin’s never been one to look stuck up per se, but he’s certainly starting to figure out his own sense of style, and the oversized tracksuit bottoms he starts wearing around their dorms is patently not it.

Not that sweats look bad on Changmin but… it’s hard not to notice that the younger boy’s gone from slimming jeans to comfort. The first time Yunho realizes it Changmin’s gone into the kitchen to fetch water, standing up on his tiptoes so his threadbare t-shirt drags up to show a sliver of his lower back. He’s thus a little distracted, and more than a little considering breaking and finally calling the GP SM saddled him with to figure out what they need to do to his suppressants to make him _not_ be attracted to his _bandmates_.

Jaejoong comes into the room behind him without a pause, takes one look at Changmin, and immediately hauls Yunho back out of the kitchen before Changmin can notice either of them.

“Hyung,” Yunho protests, less a formality and more just protestation.

“Shh.” Jaejoong looks about seconds from vibrating out of his skin. “I _told_ you.”

“Told me what?” Yunho asks. The grip Jaejoong has on his wrist is tight and painful. “Jaejoong.”

Jaejoong doesn’t let go. “I told you Changminnie wasn’t a beta.”

Yunho has no memory of Jaejoong saying this, but he’s also well and truly done with the grabbing. Yunho may be many of the stereotypes seen on television dramas (namely stubborn, from a small country town, and an omega) but he will not be dragged around by the wrist. He gets his hand free with a pointed scowl, but Jaejoong just keeps grinning maniacally.

“You actually didn’t say much of anything,” says Yunho finally.

Jaejoong isn’t fazed.

“You actually just said welcome to the club--”

“Whatever.” Jaejoong doesn’t grab Yunho by the arm again, but he still manages to not so gently maneuver him around to keep looking at Changmin, who seems to have been distracted by the food packed away in the fridge and, with a few darted looks around himself, uncaps a container and starts to eat it raw and cold.

Yunho should be horrified.

Jaejoong makes a hushed, proud sounding noise. “All grown up,” he says again.

Yunho shoots him a less than amused look. “You know he’s not our baby, right?”

Jaejoong shoots him an equally shrewd look. “Do you?”

Yunho holds his gaze, but only barely. He forgets, sometimes, that Jaejoong is actually smarter than he lets on.

Changmin’s finished with their leftovers, placing the significantly less full Tupperware back in the fridge before shutting it. He gulps down more water, throat bobbing, before pulling a little angrily at the hem of his shirt.

He tosses the water bottle towards their recycling bin.

He misses.

His brows pull down.

Jaejoong claps both hands together and steps into his view. “Changmin-ah!” he starts to say.

“Not today, Hyung,” Changmin replies before he can so much as finish.

Jaejoong stops, face doing something odd, but Yunho is too caught on the slope of Changmin’s slowly broadening shoulders. There’s new tension there, insidious and curling like the ends of Changmin’s grown out hair.

He and Yunho are to be blond next comeback.

It makes the centimeters they have on the rest of the band even more apparent.

“Manager-hyung wanted to talk to you,” Changmin continues, not even shooting Jaejoong a glance as he steps around the older boy and passes by Yunho. He’s looking down as he goes, phone already pulled out of some pocket in the sweatpants, and Yunho has a moment to think those are _not_ Changmin’s sweatpants, before Jaejoong is going sharp and shrewd by his side.

Changmin either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care, weaving around the rather sharply aimed elbow to his side without even looking up from his phone.

He doesn’t so much as bow.

Jaejoong is a dark, stewing cloud in the corner.

Yunho blinks. “Huh,” he says.

“Told you,” Jaejoong says darkly, and goes to make a ruckus about Changmin eating their leftovers.

\--

They throw Changmin a celebratory party in between schedules and the tour in Japan. Someone gets him a set of balloons, generic and red, and Yoochun and Yunho crowd around to draw on them. They can’t get anything printed in a shop, so sharpie and badly written English will have to do.

Someone pulls up the Greek on their phone and Jaejoong spends painstaking hours making a giant sign.

Changmin takes one look at the spectacle of it and tries to leave.

Jaejoong gets him before he can. “Uh uh,” he says, one arm around Changmin’s somehow still smaller frame. “You’re the man of the hour.”

Changmin looks about two seconds from punching him in the face.

Yunho feels a headache start behind his eyes.

If this is what having two alphas in a band is going to be like every heat season, he’s not sure he wants to do this for the rest of his life.

“I told you I didn’t want a celebration,” Changmin says darkly, but Jaejoong isn’t even listening to him.

He darts off to bother Yoochun, standing over by the too-large custom cake they’d all decorated with various photos of Changmin looking particularly alpha-like (which really just meant finding the worst ‘sex-faces’ Changmin had ever made on stage, according to a cackling Junsu) and enough candles to be a fire hazard.

Manager-hyung had taken one look at their monstrosity and confiscated the box.

Yunho thought it wise, even as he’d pouted alongside the rest of them, because the moment Changmin realizes that Jaejoong is gone, he makes a beeline for his cake, unlit, and starts pushing all the candles into one neat circle in the center.

Yunho comes over to watch him, partly because he doesn’t have Junsu’s energy, and partly because he wants to make sure he’s not really angry.

If Changmin notices him, he says nothing, although his shoulders start to tighten and he streaks particularly hard through one of the photos.

“I picked that one,” says Yunho, for lack of anything else to say.

Jaejoong drapes an arm around Yoochun’s shoulders and laughs particularly hard at something the other boy says.

Changmin’s lips purse.

“You were smiling in it,” Yunho continues, still at a loss. “As opposed to, um.” Now that he’s started, he’s not really sure how to finish it. There’s no easy way to talk about the fact that all of the other photos make Changmin look… not obscene, really, so much as not entirely right in the head.

“As opposed to looking like an idiot,” says Changmin.

Yunho snorts. “You said it, not me.”

Changmin doesn’t so much as twitch. “There.” He steps back from the cake gleefully, candles well and truly centered.

Yunho tries to remember if he’d been nearly this much of a pyromaniac for his birthday.

“Changmin-ah.”

Changmin’s entire body swings around to face him and Yunho goes momentarily cross eyed trying to keep track of him.

That has to be it. Changmin’s so long and lean now. That has to be it.

“You’re a fire hazard,” Yunho says.

Changmin’s mouth opens. His ears flush red.

Yunho’s brain catches up with his mouth and he’s the one blushing. “The cake,” he says somewhat desperately, trying not to look around the two of them anxiously to see what anyone’s noticed. (No one probably has; they’re the boring, over looked couple, always.) “The cake is a fire hazard.” He bites down on his own tongue, the tang of pain a welcome distraction from the fact that he’s rapidly putting his foot in his mouth.

And then while he’s at it, he just keeps his mouth closed period. He has to breathe through his nose because he has to breathe, but keeping his mouth closed is the smart thing to do. Clearly Changmin’s pheromones are wreaking havoc or something, and yeah, no one else’s have had this effect on Yunho, but that’s because they’re older. They’ve had ruts before, and are on suppressants.

Changmin’s out in the world unmedicated with a rapidly souring expression and bitten off nails.

Extenuating circumstances.

Yunho swallows.

It’s possible the silence has gone on for too long, because otherwise, why is Changmin’s expression like curdled milk.

Yunho feels bad, suddenly. “Changdol,” he says, voice a little clumsy even to his own ears, before he’s interrupted by Junsu, barreling into both their sides so he can marvel at the cake.

“Wow,” he says. “Do you want to burn down SM?”

“Only with you in it,” says Changmin, voice doing that odd gravely thing that simultaneously makes Yunho weak in the knees and worry that his doctors are imbeciles.

At the least, from the vaguely cross-eyed look Junsu has taken on, he’s not the only one affected by it. “Gross, Changmin,” says their lead vocal. “Tone it down.”

Changmin doesn’t even look sorry this time. “I’m the man of the hour,” he says, sharp and definitely quoting Jaejoong, who Yunho finally notices has left Yoochun’s side and is staring at the three of them with unnervingly shrewd eyes.

It makes Yunho want to step behind someone.

He shakes it off.

“He’ll just have to blow very hard,” he says, not even thinking, and for a moment there is blessed silence.

And then Junsu’s face breaks into an ear splitting grin, and even Changmin’s mood seems brightened.

“No,” Yunho says, backing up with both hands raised. “No, I did not mean that--”

“Too late,” chirps Junsu, hands clasped behind him like the angel he resolutely is not. “Right, Changminnie?”

Changmin tucks into his side like they have him do on variety and grins ear to too-large ear.

Yunho hates them.

After they’ve stuffed themselves with cake and no one’s let Yunho live down his innuendo for hours, Changmin catches him alone over by their makeshift buffet table.

“Yunho-hyung?” he says. His voice sounds shy and timid and like before.

When all he was was Yunho’s--when he was the trainee who came in without even having to try.

Yunho shakes himself again, frowning. He shouldn’t need to take more pills, but it can’t hurt, can it? He ought to try.

Changmin is still looking at him, lip bitten raw.

Yunho licks his own lips, but settles. This is what he’s good at. Leading. “Yes, Changmin?” He tries for gentling, for comforting, and probably ends up with terrifying, because Changmin’s eyes turn the size of saucers and he looks distinctly like he’s regretted even opening his mouth.

“I don’t, um,” he says.

Yunho doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “I’m uh. Proud of you,” he decides finally. “It’s really good that you’re…” He finds he doesn’t know what to say.

“Not a beta after all?” Changmin says wryly, and casts one look over towards the rest of their band, gathered in front of the western wall combing over their latest practice video on a manager’s laptop.

Yunho feels guilty all of a sudden, for the teasing and taunting they’d all put Changmin through prior to this. “No, I don’t--” he tries to explain. His mouth has gone dry, the throb of the secret he’s not allowed to tell welling right up to the surface. He could tell Changmin now. Changmin wouldn’t tell anyone else. Changmin might have advice--Changmin’s dad is an omega, after all.

But Changmin’s already more burdened than the rest of them. Changmin already cries when the stalking gets to be too much. He’s started to talk about seeing therapists to Manager-hyung. Started making plans for when their schedules ease up, even knowing as well as the rest of them that that’s part of the problem. They won’t ever ease up, it seems.

 _I’m not a beta either_ , wells up high in Yunho’s chest, and then rolls right back down like an ocean wave.

He swallows. “That’s not what I meant.”

Changmin is looking at him with a wry smile this time, wiser than he has any right to be.

This is why Yunho’s started pressing to be roomed with Changmin when they stay in hotels. Yeah, staying with Jaejoong feeds the rumors and keeps food on their table, but Changmin is easier. Jaejoong has so much energy and emotion and wisdom that sometimes Yunho would rather lock himself in the bathroom than sit around pouring over their videos or practicing their second languages.

It’s fun.

But it’s hard.

Being with Changmin’s never been anything other than easy.

But Yunho digresses.

“I’m worried,” Changmin says finally, and if he’s realized Yunho’s been missing for the first half of the conversation, he doesn’t comment. “I’m not cut out to be an alpha. What if I’m awful at it?”

Yunho flinches. Everything hits too close to home. “You’re going to be fine, Changdol,” he says quietly.

Changmin doesn’t look convinced. “I’m not cut out to look after anyone,” he says, and Yunho doesn’t know what to do with that, because one, that’s wrong, Changmin looks after everyone all the time, even when he clearly hates it, even when he clearly wants nothing more than to throw the dirty dishes right back in Junsu’s face like ‘no, I’m tired, I sang more than you today, you do it.’

But maybe that’s it.

Maybe that’s what he’s saying.

Yunho doesn’t know.

Yunho doesn’t know what to do _at all_.

He hugs Changmin.

“What. Hyung,” Changmin protests, fighting the embrace only halfheartedly, but Yunho ignores him, because now that he’s started, it feels right. And also, holding Changmin’s head is easier than staring into Changmin’s too-big, too-wise eyes. That his hair is soft and freshly washed is an added bonus.

Really, if anything, the effect rut has on everyone’s hygiene is the highlight of the experience.

Changmin’s stopped struggling. “Um,” he says. He’s not holding Yunho back. “Thank? You?”

Yunho hides a grin in the top of Changmin’s head. “For what?” he says.

Changmin’s body tenses up.

“For hugging you?”

“No--” He starts to pull away.

“For my wisdom and never-ending compliments?” Yunho continues, tightening his grip.

“You’re the worst--never mind.” Changmin is fighting him in earnest, grappling in Yunho’s hold until his nose is banging into Yunho’s collarbones and toes are being stepped on.

“Ow, you’re so bony,” Yunho says, even as he becomes aware that Changmin’s stopped moving.

He can’t even tell if the younger boy is even _breathing_ , still as he’s gone, with his nose still just touching Yunho’s shirt collar and the muscles in his back carved from marble.

Yunho’s sex-ed courses flare into the forefront of his mind and he’s out of Changmin’s reach in seconds, heart racing.

Changmin stares straight ahead, startled.

Yunho can’t tell what he knows. What he thinks he knows. What he’s guessed.

The urge to smell himself is unbearable.

Yunho taps all of that down with iron self-control. It’s fine. He’s been on pills for a full week--overkill, but necessary given all the hormones floating around because of Changmin’s presentation.

Everything is fine.

Changmin’s mouth opens.

Yunho reaches out to pat him gently on the arm. “Good talk,” he says, still patting, and then practically springs back over to the rest of them.

Yoochun folds him back into his side without even a sideways glance, but Jaejoong is looking off towards Changmin with one of those unnerving looks on his face again.

“What?” Yunho says.

“Nothing,” Jaejoong says, and then, haltingly. “Changdol-ah!”

Changmin sticks his middle finger in the air, but comes over anyway. “I’m not a dog,” he says, but he’s smiling a little as he squeezes himself in between Yunho and Yoochun.

Jaejoong’s eyes go sharp around the edges, but Yunho barely notices, too busy chronicling the way Changmin turns his attention to the steady stream of practice videos pulled up on Manager-hyung’s laptop.

It’s like nothing’s changed.

\--

Two days later, Changmin storms out of their company car on their way to practice with red down the back of his neck and his hands clenched into two tiny fists.

Jaejoong follows after him smirking, and Yunho hurts just looking at the both of them. Changmin’s over the hump of his rut now, so everyone has been alternating between relieved and ready for all of it to be done.

(Very quickly they’d all figured out Jaejoong was mostly doing it because he thought it was fun, and because it fed into his and Changmin’s blooming couple dynamic; very quickly Changmin had lost all patience and started bothering their staff for more expensive suppressants.

Jaejoong had just smirked and been even more of a thorn in Yunho’s side.)

“Hyung. Kissed me,” Changmin says, voice tight. The formality comes across with all the barely concealed vehemence of a teenager fighting the honorific system. Yunho is struck very suddenly that Changmin is barely grown.

Junsu and Yoochun find this hilarious, crowding around Jaejoong to high five him, but Yunho is stuck on Changmin’s face.

There’s devastation under the anger and something too raw and precious for him to fully uncover.

He crosses his arms. “You need to stop this,” he says shortly.

Jaejoong and Yoochun don’t pay him any mind, but Junsu turns to him, smile fading.

Changmin looks vicious and gleeful all wrapped into one. He tilts towards Jaejoong, pleased. He looks like he’s won, like Yunho’s anger is a prize to be fought for, and something ugly settles into the pit of Yunho’s stomach. _I will not be owned_ , he thinks. _I am_ not _that person_. “You too,” he barks.

Changmin’s eyes go wide. “Hyung,” he says.

Yunho will have nothing of it.

That seems to still Jaejoong, pulling away from Yoochun’s congratulations with too bright eyes.

“Both of you,” Yunho says. “You’re a distraction.”

For a second, he thinks Jaejoong is going to challenge him, so he goes coiled, every newly honed muscle shifting as he moves.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Changmin floundering, his own eyes still so wide.

Yunho purses his lips, done with the conversation, and stalks away further into their dorm.

Behind him, he can hear Junsu and Yoochun whispering.

“You’ve done it now,” Yoochun says.

“And we’re the problem children,” Junsu adds.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jaejoong snaps, and for once, it’s very clear to Yunho that Changmin agrees with him.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for getting this thing to 87 kudos in TWO CHAPTERS. I am in AWE!!!!! Also, all of your comments are lovely and the best. 
> 
> [Tumblr master post](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/170909972935/title-my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/964178125146984448)


	4. sear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by hexmen. This is our baby. All other mistakes are my own. Kinah also looked at it because she's the best. ENJOY!
> 
> Note: this chapter features the events of October 2006 and there is some discussion of vomiting/the effects of said events of October 2006.

**4\. Sear**

\--

Yunho stays truly angry at them for all of two hours. Very quickly he realizes he’s being worse than the two of them, since clearly whatever pissing contest Jaejoong and Changmin are engaged is in part biological (not that that has any merit to it; people aren’t just mindless slaves to their hormones) and his is mere jealousy. Because it is.

It takes Yunho all of two hours to realize that the roaring monster in his chest must be jealousy. And then he feels nearly sick with it, and sick _at it_ , because it’s one thing to be at each other’s throats for one week out of the entire year, and another to want nothing more than to strangle the two of them for simply existing.

Changmin’s one of the boys now.

He flushes when Jaejoong makes uncouth knot jokes and gets clapped on the back the next time they see Heechul-hyung and makes instant, perfect friends with Cho Kyuhyun, new-alpha, new-trainee, new-voice-that-could-sing-with-angels.

Yunho looks at them and feels nearly sick with jealousy, and then hates himself that much more for thinking it. So he’s not an alpha. So he’s not a beta. So what.

“They’re putting Kyuhyun in Super Junior 05,” Changmin says one morning, hardly looking up from his breakfast. “Er, Super Junior, I guess. He’s going to be the new maknae.”

The old maknae is Kibum, whom Changmin remains particularly close to in the way that only maknaes can be, but who Yunho knows from Heechul-hyung, is only in Super Junior 05 (and Super Junior period, now, he supposes) as a stepping stool towards acting.

Yunho should be glad that Changmin’s found friends his age.

Yunho just stares down at his own bowl of rice and feels something fracture in the pit of his chest.

Jaejoong apologizes to Yunho and says it won’t happen again.

Changmin tags along, back ramrod straight, yet strangely doesn’t seem inclined to back down.

Junsu heaves a sigh of relief.

Yoochun makes thinly veiled jokes about how Yunho’s not a beta after all, and Yunho’s shoulders go tight before he can stop himself.

Somehow, tragically, Yunho feels like he’s stumbled right out of being just friends with them and back into being just the leader of them.

But they’re too busy for him to fix it, so he just stands his ground and rides them all a little too hard. They’re on their way to the top of the goddamned world; heaven forbid they fall.

It’s Changmin who does it, one afternoon when they’re trapped together in the cloying heat of late summer in a practice room working on the album repackage, lying exhausted on the dance floor in two vaguely interconnected circles.

Yoochun peels his outer shirt off looking sour, and instead of taking the opportunity to show off, Jaejoong just shoots their songwriter an appreciative smile.

“You’ve got a good chest, Yoochunie,” he says.

Yoochun rolls his eyes, used to it, but Changmin’s scoffing before anyone else can so much as speak.

“Yeah right,” he says. “Not as good as Yunho-hyung’s.”

There’s a beat.

Yunho gets the distinct feeling that the four of them have had this conversation before.

Junsu looks like he’d like to be literally _anywhere else_ ; Changmin looks like he’d like to rewind time.

Yunho licks at his suddenly dry lips and says, “that’s true, actually,” and his voice only hitches slightly. “Yoochunnie may be ripped an all--”

Yoochun rolls his eyes.

“--but I think we can all agree my chest is the most… plent… iful…” He trails off, scowling, because this was really wasn’t where he’d planned for his statement to go. He just wanted to break the tension, to reassure them that he was still the same Jung Yunho, just slightly more worn around the edges from his terrible, can’t-even-dream-of-telling-you secret.

Usually, recently, talking about his chest has taken on an all-new, uncomfortable meaning. They’ve all shared their worst fears and things they’d change about themselves in a heartbeat, of course, but Yunho usually is content to listen to Jaejoong and Junsu threaten to take a razor to Changmin’s lower back.

But he’s too tired of being nothing but an overgrown alarm clock and an undergrown dance coach, so he’d opened his mouth.

And Changmin’s eyes had just been so very worried.

“Plentiful,” repeats Changmin, eyes still looking worried, but dubious now.

“Plentiful,” Yunho affirms after one second of pause. “Um.”

The tension breaks.

Junsu rolls onto his stomach grinning. “Dare you to take a photo,” he says, and when Yunho inclines his head, nods downward.

Jaejoong’s gone silent, but Yoochun cackles, pleased. “You should change shirts,” he decides, eyeing Yunho’s black tank top.

“You can borrow mine.” Jaejoong breaks his silence, voice strange sounding.

“No,” snaps Changmin suddenly, and then when everyone turns to look at him, colors a little but holds his ground. He rubs at the suddenly blazing back of his neck in plain embarrassment. “I mean, you don’t have to, Hyung.” He won't meet Yunho’s eyes. “I packed a change of clothes.”

Yunho’s mouth parts.

Junsu blurts out into shocked laughter. “Careful, Changdol,” he says. “You’re going to give Jaejoong-hyung a run for his money.”

Jaejoong’s brows lift.

“Who’s the wife now?” Junsu explains redundantly, head tipping over towards Changmin, and very clearly heedless of the bear he’s poking.

The bear-in-question’s lips thin.

Yunho drops his head back down onto the practice room floor.

“Shut up, Junsu,” Jaejoong says finally, but he actually sounds bemused. “Changminnie’s an alpha. He can’t be the wife.”

There’s another, terrible beat.

“I’m telling Hyukjae you said that,” Junsu mumbles, but it’s forced and not entirely serious. They’d all been happy for Hyukjae--he had the mark on his ankle to prove it and everything--but the honeymoon phase had ended rather quickly once the news of Donghae’s father broke.

Yoochun reaches out to gently thwack Junsu.

Yunho hopes no one can tell how tense he’s very suddenly and irrationally become. None of them know. He’d thought maybe Changmin, in May, but nothing had changed afterwards, and there was no way Changmin would pass up any chance to lord something over one of them, Yunho especially.

It’s fine.

Yunho’s fine.

“You mean because I’ve got a _dick_ , you dick,” Changmin is in the middle of saying, voice accusatory, but not entirely pissed off as usual. He almost sounds amused by the argument. “Yunho-hyung--”

“Here.” Whatever Changmin’d been going to say gets lost in the t-shirt Yoochun chucks into the center of Yunho’s chest.

Yunho looks over: Yoochun’s standing over by their bags with a worrying grin across his face, hands juggling a tiny bottle of some sort, clearly thieved from Changmin’s still open bag.

“What’s this, Changmin?” he asks, even as the label tilts into full and plain view.

 _Lube_.

Changmin’s carrying around a bottle of lube.

Yunho turns his attention back towards the well-lit ceiling.

“Hyung!” Changmin squawks, cheeks bright red, and is on his feet instantly.

Yunho blinks down at the shirt on his chest semi-mournfully. On the one hand, Changmin might actually murder Yoochun. On the other, the distraction means no one is looking when he sits up and eases out of his tank top. Changmin’d actually packed one of Yunho’s old hand-me-downs, given away when Jaejoong shrunk it in the wash two weeks ago, but for their purposes, it fits perfectly.

Yunho still ducks his head when it’s on, darting a quick glance around to make sure no one’s been staring.

Jaejoong looks back at him unblinkingly.

Yunho doesn’t flinch, but it’s a near thing. He looks back towards the ruckus.

Changmin has reclaimed his possessions and bag, but very clearly lost all manner of other things, including his dignity, his carefully erected image of aloof maknae, and also, worryingly, his virginity.

“I’m not a fucking _virgin_ , Yoochun-hyung,” Changmin is in the middle of spitting across the room, arms crossed protectively across his chest and bag.

Junsu and Yoochun blink.

“But you just presented?” Junsu says finally. “You haven’t even had a real rut.”

Changmin’s smile goes shark-like in an instant. “Well, we can’t all be trainwrecks with girls,” he starts to say nastily, but Jaejoong snapping a photo right in Yunho’s face with the flash on startles all of them before he can finish.

Yunho blinks back stars, vision briefly spotty.

“If the two of you are finished being jealous,” Jaejoong says dryly, head tipped back and nose slightly in the air. “We should return to the most important matter at hand.”

Junsu and Yoochun look like neither of them have finished regaining the power of sight.

“My chest,” Yunho says dubiously, debating crossing his arms protectively.

Jaejoong’s eyes glint dangerously. “I think you’ll find that your chest is incredibly important, particularly to our lovely mak--”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Yunho-hyung,” Changmin interjects somewhat desperately, voice high, and glowering at Jaejoong even as he turns towards Yunho looking earnestly apologetic. “I mean. It’s kind of offensive--”

“Offensive?” Junsu asks.

“Offensive,” Changmin snaps, unruffled. “People--people nurse--”

“Your dad, you mean,” handwaves Jaejoong. “That’s different. Yunho’s a beta.”

Changmin turns worried eyes on Yunho but doesn’t correct anyone.

For a second, Yunho is just glad that Changmin’s finally at ease enough with his parents’ less than typical combination. Then the oddly specific way Changmin’s sought him out sticks out to him, and he frowns.

“Changmin, have I ever done anything to suggest to you that I had anything but respect for your father?” he tries to ask, honestly worried.

Changmin’s eyes widen. “No!” he shouts loudly as if the thought never even occurred to him, but then, that can’t be right, since otherwise, what was that look for?

“I’m bored,” says Junsu, before they can get into it. “Are we taking the photo, or can we go back to dancing?”

Jaejoong and Yoochun visibly shudder at the thought of having to dance to _O_ again.

“Photo,” Yunho says, surprising even himself.

They all turn to look at him, curious, but also a little hesitant. Yunho feels awful--how long has he been absolutely no fun--but also even more certain.

“What?” he says. “I’m curious.”

“Curious,” repeats Changmin, and Yunho is struck by déjà vu.

His palms itch. “Well, you’re the one who told me I looked like a girl--”

“I didn’t mean it,” says Changmin, at the same time Junsu and Yoochun crow with laughter.

“Whatever.” Yunho waves a hand. It had bothered him at the time. It still bothers him sometimes, but even since then, part of him had been curious.

“Whatever,” Jaejoong agrees loudly overtop all of them. “You.” He points at Yunho. “Pose.”

Yunho stares back at him, mildly taken aback.

Changmin makes a weird guttural noise in the back of his throat.

“Use my phone,” says Yoochun, ignoring them both. “Let’s send it to Manager-hyung.”

“Why your phone?” asks Junsu. “You drop it all the time--does the camera even still work?”

Yoochun scowls at him.

“How do you even know it’s going to be a good photo?” asks Yunho, turning away from Jaejoong and Changmin’s staring contest with honest curiosity.

Junsu and Yoochun don’t even look at him. “It’ll be weird if one of you send it,” justifies Yoochun.

Junsu snorts.  “And it won’t if you do it?” he says.

“No, but there won’t be as much of a suspension of belief,” says Yoochun.

Junsu rolls his eyes. “No one believes you’ve slept with anyone.”

“Lies,” says Yoochun.

“I’ll take the photo,” interjects Changmin, raising his own phone and gesturing at Yunho. “Squeeze.”

“Squeeze,” says Junsu.

“Wow, Changmin, you should change careers,” says Yoochun.

“I’m not a piece of meat,” says Yunho, but he hugs his arms close to his torso anyway, taking a deep breath and making a point to stare straight ahead for the entire process.

He shouldn’t have said anything. Or he should have shut them up ages ago, when he’d been curious about it himself. Now he just feels vaguely nauseated.

The silence goes thick like syrup.

“Huh,” Jaejoong says finally. Yunho shoots a quick glance over to find that he’s grabbed the the phone from Changmin.

“Did you send it?” asks Junsu quickly.

“You better send it,” insists Yoochun emphatically.  

“That’s my phone,” Changmin whines.

Yunho pulls his shoulders back quickly and scowls, shaking off the unwanted self-consciousness and walking over to snag Changmin’s phone back from Jaejoong.

“Hey,” Changmin protests again, but more subdued sounding this time.

Yunho looks at the photo and feels his throat go dry. He’d asked Yoochun once if he thought he should get surgery, and Yoochun had just laughed at him and not answered. He’d told everyone less to be a dick and more because they’d never had secrets, but Yunho had still refused to let him sit up front in the car for two weeks straight, the shame of Junsu and Hyukjae giggling in front of plastic surgery websites too soon and too bitter a pill to swallow.

Changmin had pulled him aside finally, voice hushed and nervous about whatever SM had in store for his nose, and somehow Yunho had come out of the conversation done being angry at Yoochun and annoyed that people thought Changmin’s face needed fixing.

He finds himself stepping automatically closer to Changmin before he can help himself when he sees the photo, the utter calm the younger boy managed to instill in him something he desperately, desperately needs.  

Jaejoong has sent the photo to their manager--aptly named Discipline Manager-hyung in Changmin’s phone--but Yunho is too caught on the way the industrial overhead lighting is somehow doing him all the favors.

Not that it’s obviously him. The composition is good; Changmin really could change careers and take up photography. Yunho’s face is completely obscured from view by the framing, but his too-long and too-blond hair is falling around is collar bones that only seems to highlight the fact that he might as well be a strange woman in the photo. The shirt choice really helps.

“I take it back,” Yoochun says finally, voice hushed. “Your chest is definitely better than mine and Jaejoong-hyung’s abs.”

Yunho pauses. He tries to decide if he wants to smack the younger boy.

“Ow,” says Yoochun before Yunho can make up his mind. “Changmin-ah. That was my foot.”

“Sorry.” Changmin sounds anything but. “My mistake.”

“Your mistake?” asks Junsu. “Who were you aiming for--ow!”

Yunho ignores all of them in favor of opening the reply message from Manager-hyung.

 _Changmin-ah_ , it reads. _Who is this woman_?

There’s a tense, awkward pause, and Yunho swears all of them are waiting for him to make the first move.

Then Changmin’s phone starts buzzing frantically, this time with a call from Discipline Manager-hyung, and the title jumps out at the five of them like a particularly disapproving parent.

“Oh my God,” Yunho says, laughing, and hands the phone to Changmin without pausing. “You answer.”

“It’s your photo!” shrieks Changmin, cheeks bright red. “Hyung!”

Junsu and Yoochun follow Yunho back towards the mirrors.

“Hyung!” Changmin’s voice has raised at least two octaves.

The call seems to have gone to voicemail, but that only seems to incense Discipline Manager-hyung, because it immediately starts vibrating again, and this time with even more vigor.

“You took the photo,” Yunho says, pulling off the borrowed shirt and slipping back into his much more comfortable practice clothes. “It’s your phone.”

Changmin doesn’t say anything, and seems to have gone punched-in-the-gut silent, but Yunho is too busy trying not to be too blatantly eyeing the reflection of his chest in the black tank top.

There’s the sound of what might be a scuffle--clearly Changmin had been distracted by something because that’s definitely him protesting--and then Jaejoong’s voice, sunny and far too pleased-sounding filling the practice room.

Yunho turns to look.

“Hyung,” Jaejoong says. “How nice of you to call.”

“Jaejoong-hyung,” Changmin hisses, clearly horrified, but Jaejoong just sticks a hand out between the two of them and grins into the phone.

“Oh, you didn’t mean to call me? You meant to call Changminnie?”

Changmin’s teeth clack together at the use of the nickname.

“Changminnie can’t come to the phone right now,” Jaejoong continues, hand shoved tight against the center of Changmin’s chest now as he shoves the younger boy bodily away. “He’s busy.”

Changmin squawks.

Manager-hyung, it seems, also squawks.

Jaejoong just keeps grinning. “Changminnie’s not a virgin after all, hyung,” he says, almost cruelly, and for a split second Changmin looks like he’s going to cry all over again. “What did you think of his nice omega girlfri--”

Yunho has the phone in his hand and his entire body pushed in between Changmin and Jaejoong before he can so much as think to do it. His vision’s gone weirdly fuzzy. Every beat of his heartbeat feels like waves on a beach.

“It’s me, Hyung,” he says.

At his side, Jaejoong scoffs, the noise sounding remarkably like, _you’re no fun_.

Yunho ignores him.

Jaejoong’s jaw locks.

Changmin just seems frozen.

“Yunho-yah?” Manager-hyung sounds confused, but no less panicked. “Who is that woman--where’s Changmin--“”

“It’s me, Hyung,” Yunho repeats, and clears his throat.

“What?” Manager-hyung is distracted, definitely on another phone at the same time. “I know it’s you, Yunho-yah--”

“The picture, Hyung,” Yunho interrupts quickly, trying to stun Manager-hyung into silence, and succeeding. “The picture is of me.”

Manager-hyung pauses.

Yoochun and Junsu start whispering not so quietly in the background.

“It was a joke,” Yunho finishes, feeling a little like the wind’s gone all the way out of his sails.

Jaejoong and Changmin are staying where Yunho’s put them, but the tension seems worse now.

Finally, Manager-hyung sighs. “Right,” he says. “Let me just call off Woojin-hyung.” And then he hangs up before Yunho can so much as apologize.

He stands holding the phone in his hand in shocked silence, not sure what even to say. Eventually: “I think he panicked. He said he needed to call off Woojin-hyung.”

Yoochun and Junsu snicker, but don’t break out of their huddle, obviously picking up on the tension spiraled around Jaejoong and Changmin and to a lesser extent, Yunho, still standing in between the two of them.

“Oops,” Junsu says finally. “Sorry, Hyung.”

Yunho’d almost forgotten he was the one to dare them.

Jaejoong comes alive like a Greek hero throwing off Medusa’s curse, scowling and looking quite like he’d fought a woman with snakes for hair. He reaches for Yunho’s waistband with one cruelly clawing hand.

“Jaejoong-ah!” The name rips from Yunho’s throat as he rips away from Jaejoong, heart racing in his chest, expression mortified.

“Are you sure you’re not an alpha, Yunho-hyung?” Jaejoong says, words also cruel, but tone somehow also unreadable.

Yunho feels like he’s probably gaping or something.

Changmin’s stepped up behind him to steady him, spine ramrod straight. He takes his phone back like almost an afterthought.

“Grow up, Hyung,” he says, and for a second Yunho doesn’t know who he’s addressing. For a second Yunho forgets he’s probably talking about the teasing phone call period, or what Jaejoong had said to Manager-hyung.

He pulls away from Changmin’s oddly calming grip on his shoulder with apology on his lips. Maybe they’re going to fight again.

Yunho should collect himself so he can deal with it.

But then Jaejoong rolls his eyes. “You’re the one walking around carrying lube,” he says, and then walks off to stand too close to Yoochun without a backwards glance.

Yunho stares after him unblinking.

“You’re the one walking around with your _face_ ,” retorts Changmin, and it is, Yunho would be the first to admit, his worst response to date. “Shut up,” Changmin says when he sees the look on Yunho’s face.

Jaejoong doesn’t even deign it worthy of a response, too busy pestering Yoochun and Junsu even as they start to pour over the videos of today’s practice.

When Yunho finally looks away from them, he finds Changmin is the one looking at him now.

“Are you okay, Yunho-hyung?” he asks when he notices he’s been caught.

Yunho glances over at the rest of the band and finds no one giving them the time of day. “I’m fine, Changdol,” he says. “Thanks.”  He reaches out to pat Changmin awkwardly on the arm.

“Ow, Jaejoong-hyung, that’s my arm,” shouts Yoochun, and Yunho pulls back startled.

“We should practice,” he says.

“Yeah,” Changmin says.

They talk about the whole thing on _Yashimmanman_ a whole month later, because it’s funny, it fits with the episode script, and even Woojin-hyung had been convinced to come around to the humor of the situation after some soju and perspective.

Changmin ends up talking about watching porn in front of his lovely alpha mother, who takes the whole thing in good spirits and even manages to make their hosts laugh a little.

Yunho is glad, because it distracts from his segment, which he had introduced, but had still hit a little too close to home, especially when Yoochun brought up surgery without even asking.

 And then not a week later, Yunho gets poisoned.

\--

They’re in the middle of filming for _Heroine Six_ when it happens. They’re on a bathroom break after the initial entrance and the mouse game, and Sukjin-sunbaenim is reviewing the footage seriously in the corner. Jaejoong is making friends with the others on the show with them, and Yunho should as well--or at least should go make sure his bandmate hasn’t further ruined Shin Junghwan-sunbaenim’s career. Only, the script calls for a special game of Dibidibidi, and Yunho knows it’s going to be physical and probably down to him as the competitive leader, and he’s tired.

Yoochun has gone off to the bathroom with Junsu and two manager-hyungs, and Yunho clears his throat a few times wishing he’d had the foresight to ask one of them to get him a drink beforehand. Maybe orange juice; the vitamin c could help him fight off his next cold.

In hindsight, maybe it’s his own fault it happens, because he’s so tired, and so half-heartedly thirsty, that when a nondescript girl comes back onto the set with Yoochun, Junsu, and the manager-hyungs carrying orange juice, Yunho thinks he must really be sleep deprived, if he’s forgotten he had in fact asked for the stuff in the first place and also forgotten.

He down the juice in one great gulp.

“Five minutes,” he hears Junsu tell Yoochun. “Oh, there you are, Changmin.”

“Jaejoong-hyung is scary,” Changmin says, both explaining away his absence and also not, but Yunho’s a little too dizzy to focus all of a sudden.

Perhaps he ought to sit down. Only… no, Yunho’s already sitting. He ought to stand up.

His tongue feels too thick for his mouth all of a sudden. His ears might be ringing.

Yunho brings his hands to his mouth, raw feeling suddenly, and comes away with wet fingertips.

“I don’t feel so good,” he says, and then turns and throws straight up into the conveniently placed trash can.

It’s luck that has him sitting so close to it; it’s luck he even throws up to begin with, but then, Yunho’s always had a weak stomach. Usually that’s a character fault. Today, it comes in handy.

“Oh,” Yunho says when he’s finished emptying the contents of his stomach, staring mildly down at what appears to be blood while his throat aches and keeping his mouth open seems difficult.

And then Manager-hyung is shouting for an ambulance, pushing down hard between Yunho’s shoulder blades, and without even pausing, sticks two fingers down the back of Yunho’s rapidly closing up throat.

 _Super glue_ , Yunho hears in the ambulance. _Anti-fan_.

He closes his eyes.

\--

Yunho’s parents aren’t coming right away.

Manager-hyung explains this to another, almost-familiar manager-hyung in hushed tones while standing over Yunho’s hospital bed, and Yunho hears it through the haze of drug induced sleep. This makes sense. Filming was supposed to end nearing three a.m. on a Saturday and Gwangju’s no easy distance, but part of Yunho is already back in another hospital room with his father shouting over him.

That hadn’t even been a weekend.

“They’re coming up as soon as possible tomorrow morning,” says Manager-hyung.

“He’ll probably sleep until they come anyway.”

Yunho thinks: they think I’m still sleeping.

“He’s stable, anyway,” says the other manager-hyung. “His mother asked. I explained.” The man sounds judgmental.

Yunho wants to scowl--Seoulites--but doing so right now seems an impossibility. He can’t feel the lower half of his face, but clearly he’s got a breathing tube, so it’s probably alright.

“We should send the boys home,” Manager-hyung is saying, which catches Yunho’s attention again. “They need to sleep.”

Other manager-hyung snorts. “You want to tell Changmin that, or shall I?”

“Right.”

They both laugh.

Yunho’s heart gives a pleasant thump.

“I’m surprised no one’s broken in yet.”

“Well, I think one of the nurses braved Jaejoong’s silver tongue and Junsu’s puppy dog eyes in order to explain that Yunho was in critical condition and his parents would be very disappointed if they weren’t able to see him tomorrow because his bandmates had overwhelmed him.” Manager-hyung’s voice is very dry. “Jaejoong’s still scared shitless of Changmin’s mother.”

Yunho blinks, not quite following that subject change.

Other manager-hyung snickers. “I’ll say.”

They stop talking for a moment.

“They’ll definitely be here when he wakes up,” one says. “He almost died.”

Another pause.

Yunho gets the sense he’s being stared at.

“They came so fast before,” says one, and Yunho finally places his voice to another hospital bed, more than one year ago.

His eyes come open.

“He’s awake--Doctor-nim!” shouts the first manager-hyung, already halfway to the hospital door and ready to stick his head out into the hallway.

Yunho meets the second manager-hyung’s eyes over the breathing tube, tears in the corners of his eyes because he can’t feel his throat, that’s all.

“Yunho-yah.” The man’s voice is rough. “It’s three-thirty a.m..”

Yunho had thought that.

“They’ll be here as soon as they can.”

Yunho just focuses on not panicking, thinks of the distance between Gwangju and Seoul, and is thankful he can’t so much as swallow around the tube.

It’s fine.

\--

The next time Yunho wakes up, his parents and sister are here and so are his bandmates.

For all of Sunday morning they seem to be handing off who hovers around his bedside; more often than not his mother is around, but Jihye comes to stand silently next to the selected flower gift sitting on the tableside (the fans have sent more than Yunho had thought possible and Junsu has decided they should rotate them) once or twice towards the start of his hospital stay and just stares at them with an unreadable look in her beautiful eyes.

Junsu and Yoochun had looked at her oddly when she’d arrived, and Yunho had felt all of his forgotten big brother chest-beating rise right up to the forefront of his memory; Changmin had just rolled his eyes, cuffed them both on the back of the head, and said something maudlin about alpha women not having any need for a lowly beta singer like you lot.

Jihye hadn’t so much twitched, but Yunho had frantically tried to remember if at any point they’d talked about Jihye.

Certainly he’d said something to Boa, since Boa _understood_ , but he doesn’t remember if it’d come up with his bandmates. Maybe after Boa had finished smacking sense into Jaejoong?

His parents and Jihye leave later that afternoon, since Yunho is to be discharged on Monday and no one was going to talk him into pressing charges. Heechul-hyung came by around the time they were leaving and made a huge fuss of it all until one of the male alpha nurses came in when Yunho looked close to tears. Heechul-hyung’s still not all the way healed from his own accident, and prone to refusing the mandatory crutches. He’s still got metal in both legs. Yunho found it hard to look at him.

Afterwards he’d gotten a written apology and a visit from Jungsoo-hyung and a tearstained looking Donghae, who’d hugged him and told him he was sorry but also that he didn’t understand why Yunho wasn’t pressing charges ( _she was Jihye’s age she was only Jihye’s age_ ) but he also understood that nothing was going to change his mind and he’d talk to Heechul-hyung.

He hasn’t seen the rest of TVXQ since they left that morning for _Inkigayo_ filming, but once Yunho has been left alone, they crowd into his hospital room to recount the entire process.

It’s just Junsu and Changmin while Jaejoong and Yoochun record a variety show.

“ _Golden Fishery_?” says Junsu, shrugging. “I’m not sure--Hyung knows.”

Jaejoong’s the pseudo leader now, which is going well enough.

“We’re going to schedules,” Changmin admits. “I don’t know. I did the speech today.”

“I thought he was going to cry,” says Junsu promptly, and dodges the kick Changmin aims at his shins. There’s not really enough room for the both of them to sit quite so close to Yunho’s bed, but they’re doing it.

When Yoochun and Jaejoong arrive, they’re going to get first dibs on the bed.

Yunho tries not to feel too pleased about it, but he’s tired, his throat hurts more often than not, and cuddling up to his bandmates is nice. It has nothing to do with anything else.

“I was not going to cry,” Changmin says.

“He absolutely was going to cry,” Junsu says.

“Yeah, okay,” Yunho rasps, bemused, and a little tired. “Are--” He yawns, which aches only a little, and holds in the wince. “Are Jaejoong and Yoochun coming after?”

“Should be here soon,” Changmin says a little sourly. “Actually--” He straightens, nostrils flaring, and breaks off to climb right on top of Yunho with a barely hidden scowl.

Jaejoong and Yoochun arrive to the room in a whiff of pleasantly amused pheromones. Evidently the recording had gone well. It’s such a relief from the never ending false cheer from his various nurses and doctors that Yunho leaves his mouth open blatantly for a few moments while they exchange greetings. Hospitals are the worst place to score high with pheromones. Junsu and Yoochun have never complained about it, but he and Changmin and Jaejoong have always commiserated with ice packs after a particularly long appointment with an IV drip. Yunho realizes he’s being discharged incredibly early, but he also can’t wait to go home and be away from all the disease.

He glances towards the door.

Jaejoong and Yoochun  have been accompanied by a hesitant looking manager-hyung, who comes to clasp Yunho on the shoulder briefly as soon he notices. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he says a little gruffly. “We missed you today.”

“ _O_ isn’t the same without you,” Changmin says. “Junsu-hyung messed up the dance.”

“I did not.” Junsu goes to join Changmin on the bed. “I killed it. You’ll have to fight me for it next time.”

“Next time,” Yunho says, happy. His voice hasn’t been ruined by the incident, probably because his manager had made him vomit as much of it up as possible.

“Next time,” Jaejoong affirms.

Yunho can’t quite help but grin ear to ear. Then he turns more solidly to Junsu. “You’re not dancing my part next time.”

Junsu raises both hands like they’ve been having this fight since before TVXQ was no more than a badly conceived pun about whales. “Well, only because you’ve only just fought death and won,” he says.

Yunho rolls his eyes.

Manager-hyung clears his throat and pats Yunho one last time, before making a point to do a headcount.

“There are five of us,” Changmin says, like he almost can’t quite believe it.

Manager-hyung makes a show of counting them twice, before reaching out to gently pet the top of Changmin’s too-soft blond bangs as well.

Changmin scowls but doesn’t pull away.

“I’m going to the cafeteria to see if I can find you a snack,” says Manager-hyung. “You need to eat before we head back to the dorm.”

Changmin’s stomach, typically, rumbles in an almost comic fashion.

“Kay.”

Manager-hyung leaves with little to no fanfare.

“We should hide when he comes back,” Changmin says primly, settling more firmly across the end of Yunho’s bed.

“Yeah.” Yoochun seems excited at the prospect. He drops into the seat Junsu vacated.

Junsu and Jaejoong exchange one loaded gaze, before Jaejoong settles onto the bed next to Changmin. He seems to be doing his very best not to touch any part of Yunho.

In contrast, Changmin’s going to take all the feeling out of Yunho’s left foot.

Yunho finds he doesn’t mind very much.

Jaejoong reaches out to poke him in the leg. “Yunho-yah,” he says. “Stop being so happy to see us.”

Yoochun settles into Changmin’s vacated hospital seat and smirks. “You seem pretty happy about it,” he says.

Yunho concedes that point; now that he’s thinking about it, he can practically taste the other boy’s glee filling up the room, but as he inhales it goes sour with something else.

Jealousy?

That makes absolutely no sense.

Changmin shifts on the bed and makes Yunho’s ankle twinge.

“Ow!”

The four of them turn toward him instantly, concern etched into every line of their faces.

“Careful,” Junsu scolds.

“Look, we can get more chairs.” Yoochun’s hands hover at his side.

“I can stand,” says Changmin.

“Stop making such a big deal,” says Jaejoong lazily, even though Yunho can still taste his fear response on the roof of his mouth. “He’s fine.”

Changmin exchanges a look with Yoochun, before reaching out to thump Jaejoong on the head.

“Ow.” Jaejoong pulls away from the contact with a small shake.

Changmin rolls his eyes. “What’s the chart say about you?”

He gestures towards Yunho’s medical chart, tacked up to the side of the bed with a chained pen hanging off it.

Jaejoong doesn’t flinch. “That Shim Changmin is crazy,” he says, reaching for it.

“Yeah, Yunho-hyung’s chart does _not_ say that,” Changmin says, at the same time Yunho’s brain picks up on what’s happening.

“No, it just says that Yunho-hyung’s going to be fine by tomorrow,” Jaejoong says. “But he’s going to miss _Sukira_.”

“You’re going on _Sukira_?” Yunho asks, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He can’t read his own medical chart from here, but he knows what’s on it. At the top of the page, innocuous and unnecessary, but standard operating procedure when you’re in the hospital.

Jung Yunho. DOB 02061986. And then the damning, necessary capital Greek letter.

He can see the moment Jaejoong notices it.

Watches the blood seem to come alive under his skin even as he goes utterly, utterly still.

He can see the moment Changmin sees Jaejoong notice it, sees him reach for the chart and pull it away with a furrowed brow, read the information, digest the information--

“What are you looking at?”

\--and then Yoochun has the chart, and Junsu, and Yunho feels like he’s going under anesthesia all over again.

Jaejoong is frozen at the edge of the bed.

“Yunho-hyung.” Yoochun is the first to say anything.

“Yunho-hyung.” Junsu is second.

“Hyung.” Changmin doesn’t sound as shocked as the rest of them; Yunho wants to laugh nervously; so he did realize at the party; so that was why he was making noise about his father; Yunho is an idiot.

“Yunho-yah.” Jaejoong’s voice is very small and very quiet but somehow still very cavernous in the hospital room. “You’re not a beta.”

Yunho wants to shrug his shoulders. He settles for crossing his arms across his chest. He can’t get up. He shouldn’t get up. Changmin is sitting on his left foot like dead weight. “I didn’t lie to you,” he says.

He didn’t.

They’d all just assumed.

Jaejoong’s eyes narrow into slits.

“Technically he didn’t,” Changmin starts to say.

“It’s private information,” Junsu tries to put in.

“We don’t have secrets,” Yoochun blurts out, raw hurt blooming across his face.

None of their siblings have been omegas. Besides Donghae, they know maybe two make-up noonas.

“Were you worried we’d be bad about it?” Yoochun wants to know.

“No!” the word comes out of Yunho with too much force for the state of him. He breaks off to cough, and the move unseats Changmin in search of water. “No, I.” He takes the water from Changmin and gulps it down. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

 _I’ve been preparing to be an alpha since 1999_ , he doesn’t say. _How was I supposed to tell you all of that that was a lie?_

Jaejoong finally seems to have started breathing again, and he gets up to silently bully Junsu out of his chair.

The younger boy goes with his eyebrows raised, but silent communication has him holding his tongue.

Yunho wonders what he sees in Jaejoong’s eyes that he can’t.

Yunho wonders if Jaejoong is ever going to look at him again.

“You know.” It’s Changmin, refusing to look at the floor. “You’re being really fucking prejudiced, Jaejoong-hyung.”

Jaejoong finally turns to look at Changmin, and then towards Yunho, and then his face crumbles. “Oh, Yunho-yah,” he says, looking torn.

“Whatever,” Yunho says, still a little stung. He’d thought his best friends--his family--would all love him regardless. Because maybe he’d been learning to love himself more despite it, and had even managed to hold a full phone conversation with his mother about his prescription. He risks a small smile. “Nothing has to change, right?”

Changmin is the first to smile at him, then Junsu, then Yoochun, and finally Jaejoong, although it is a little forced looking. Almost hesitant.

Yunho doesn’t have time to unravel that.

Junsu’s still standing between Yoochun and Jaejoong’s chair, but he reaches out to put a hand on Yunho’s ankle overtop the blanket anyway. “Yeah,” he says.

“You really thought you’d get rid of us that easy?” says Yoochun.

“They’re going to make me do something ridiculous on _Sukira_ tomorrow,” says Changmin, which has nothing to do with anything and yet somehow is the right thing to say to break the tension. Because it’s very easy for the rest of them to pile onto him about how they don’t need to since Changmin will be ridiculous all by himself, and Yunho gets to watch all of them go over the script Hyukjae had slipped them so that their jokes tomorrow go over well and give them a good name.

It’s nice.

Yunho ducks his head, smiles, and pretends that it’s the pain from swallowing that makes him feel like he’s going to tear up.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyy for early updates. 
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/171141846745/title-my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/966444839691784193)


	5. crisp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by hexmen. This is our baby. All other mistakes are my own. Kinah also looked at it because she's the best. Aixing gave it a much needed Suju vet. ENJOY!

**5\. Crisp**

\--

They make it all of six months before having a screaming argument, and Yunho wants to blame it on Super Junior’s accident.

It’s only eight months after the first one, and third in the string of bad luck that the more religious and newer members of SM staff have started to blame on Hyukjae and Donghae. Of course, Hyukjae and Donghae have matching bites on their ankles bones so no one can get away with saying much of anything, but that Super Junior have been so unlucky and so soon, is tough.

And certainly the fact that his best friend since grade school was in a near-fatal car crash has ruined Junsu’s nails.

Changmin’s been walking around faintly tinged green since the morning they learned that Kyuhyun’s father had made the horrible choice to save his son’s vocal chords instead of his son himself, and Yunho still can’t tell if it’s the decision that’s killing the younger boy, or the fact that deep down they all know it’s what Kyuhyun would have wanted.

Jaejoong’s been subdued, Yoochun has been clingy, and all in all, the combination of sleep-deprivation and uncertainty about the state of things back home has emotions running high. Super Junior’s comeback is facing yet another debilitating set back; TVXQ’s comeback keeps rolling strong. Between the tour preparation, the album polishing, and the numerous radio and variety programs they’ve been ferried to up and down Japan, Yunho has had little time to call home, let alone think about how this is his first heat season with the band knowing.

So maybe after their fourth _Bigeast Station_ recording, when Jaejoong makes a stupid comment when he and Yoochun meet up with Yunho, Changmin, and Junsu outside of the car, Yunho’s too tired to let it go.

Maybe as they pile into said car for the drive home, Yunho takes _offense_ to that stupid comment, and then all of a sudden that stupid comment isn’t all that stupid and pointless anymore.

That comment becomes, “well you’re an omega: what do you know?” and all of a sudden Yunho is leashing rage with barely concealed control.

Jaejoong has the decency to look like he regrets saying it--no one’s said much of anything since October, mostly because they’ve been so fucking busy that there’s no time for ruminating on it, but in the six months it’s been since Yunho was discharged from the hospital, he can count on two hands the number of times he’s come into a room to find Jaejoong and Yoochun whispering and abruptly stopping upon seeing him.

And not to mention the shit fit Jaejoong keeps throwing about the fanservice.

“Well given our options were you,” Yunho says sharply, careful not to raise his voice even though he dearly wants to, “or Junsu, who can’t even remember to pack a toothbrush half the time--”

“That was _one_ time,” Junsu protests, and shuts up immediately when Yunho turns his blazing gaze briefly towards him.

“We’re probably _lucky_ I’m the leader,” Yunho finishes, nostrils flaring. He can taste his own displeasure, mixing awkwardly in with the rest of the band and their Japanese staff’s discomfort, but instead of making him embarrassed, it just make him even more annoyed.

“Yeah, well,” Jaejoong says, and doesn’t finish, because clearly, he hadn’t wanted to have this conversation either.

Clearly he’d been thinking about it, though, when he was laughing nervously through their instructions to sit next to each other in the vans to and from airports or when they’d been informed for their latest DVD extras they’d be discussing the various fan couples in pairs.

Clearly.

Yunho’s temples throb.

“If you have a problem with how I lead this band then you should take it up with fucking Lee Sooman,” Yunho says, throwing off the honorific and stomping his way inside the van without so much as speaking to the rest of them.

He fishes the first pair of headphones he can get his hands on out of the seat pocket in front of him and jabs around in his own pockets for his phone, plugging them into the audio jack too harshly for the silence of the car.

Manager-hyung is sitting next to Manager-san in the first row, pointedly not looking up from their phones.

The last thing Yunho’d been listening to was his own isolated vocals in the Japanese version of ‘O _‘_  in preparation for the _Five in the Black Tour_. It’s loud, jarring, and does nothing to ease the tension crawling up and down Yunho’s shoulder blades.

He scowls, hunches over, and shoves his entire face into the van window.

After a moment he sees movement out of the corner of his eye, and shifts against the window so he can look over without looking like he’s doing so.

He wishes he had Changmin’s beanie, because then at least he could hide behind that.

He settles for a glower.

The movement appears to be an argument, Changmin in the middle of it with his arms crossed, and in the split second Yoochun and Junsu turn on Jaejoong, Changmin weaves through the both of them to climb in next to Yunho.

He practically dares them to say anything, settling into the seat closest to the door and letting his legs sprawl out so it’s very clear that Junsu, Yoochun, and Jaejoong are going to have to share the back row or fucking deal.

Yunho stares down at Changmin’s skinny jeans and white t-shirt and blinks a few times, mind already doing fast math.

This is Changmin’s first heat season as an alpha. He’s going to have to get his own special doses of suppressants from their GP the next time they’re in Seoul, or someone is going to have to drag him to Avex to get it straightened out before Kim-ssi loses his shit yet again.

He’s also, Yunho realizes horrifyingly, staring back at Yunho, and so Yunho looks forwards very suddenly and tries not to blush too obviously.

He has no reason to be blushing.

He’s not a stranger to heat season. He’s not the one whose biology is dictated by someone else.

Although technically, strictly speaking, it’s Yunho’s biology that’s running the game with Jaejoong and Changmin, so technically, he and Changmin are both slave to Yunho’s biology.

Technically.

‘O’ transitions into ‘Choosey Lover’ without pausing, this time without any vocal isolation, and Yunho busies himself with singling out his own vocal line underneath everyone else’s.

Jaejoong tries to catch his eye when Junsu starts dragging him into the car, but Yunho has nothing of it.

If they’re already at apologies, what was the fucking point of the argument to begin with?

Yes, they’re all tired.

Yes, Kyuhyun is still in the ICU, and the thought of having to go home to a funeral procession is enough to make anyone sane stop in their tracks.

But whatever this is? Whatever Jaejoong wants to say about this?

Yunho will blame it on the stress if it helps TVXQ keep going, but he doesn’t have to be nice about it.

He closes his eyes and settles deeper into the seat. His lines in ‘Choosey Lover’ are easy to keep track of like this; Yunho maps the ups and downs with imaginary sheet music and taps the beat out with his foot.

There’s noise from the back seat: Yoochun, sounding amused. “You’re in the way, soulmate.”

Then Jaejoong, not even subdued: “Bite me.”

And finally, Junsu: “Oh, shut _up_ , Jaejoong-hyung.”

That pauses Yunho, and he pauses the music so he can turn around and look at the three of them.

They’ve ended up sandwiched on either side of their eldest like resigned, pissed off guardians. Yoochun looks mostly amused by the situation, but he’s at least still touching Jaejoong.

Junsu’s about as squashed up against the window as he can be to avoid doing the same, and glowering.

“Junsu-yah.”

“Take your fucking pills,” Junus continues, clearly done. “Other people have _other_ problems.”

And Yunho would feel anger on Jaejoong’s behalf because what a typically beta thing to say, if, well.

Other people didn’t have other problems.

He and Jaejoong and Changmin may be biologically climbing the walls, but Junsu’s best friend and Yunho’s best friend’s boyfriend is currently living in a hospital in between schedules sick with worry for his maknae.

It certainly puts a damper on the mood.

Jaejoong has the decency to at least look guilty. “Sorry, Junsu,” he says, settling into the seat more soundly so the three of them are almost snuggling.

Junsu stops pulling away quite as far.

Yoochun muffles a yawn in one palm and gets cozy with the right back window. “Are you two done now?”

Jaejoong frowns. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” he tries to say.

Junsu just snorts. “I’m sorry, who was giving Yunho-hyung hell simply because of what, exactly?” he says.

Yunho flushes despite himself and sinks a little deeper into his seat.

At his side, Changmin makes an odd choked-sounding noise but doesn’t look up from his own phone.

“Sorry.” Jaejoong sounds sorry at least. He raises his voice. “Sorry, Yunho-hyung.”

Yunho doesn’t pull an ear bud out, but he lowers the volume enough to participate in the conversation.

Jaejoong accepts that for what it is. He turns back to Junsu. “How is he?”

Junsu sighs, and finally seems to relax in his seat in time for a turn, which is all well and good, because Yunho goes barreling into Changmin and Changmin goes tilting towards the doors and both Junsu and Jaejoong make a mildly giggling show of smothering Yoochun, who just rolls his eyes and starts pointedly fake snoring.

They ride in silence for a few moments.

“Hyukjae’s fine,” Junsu says suddenly, and it’s a lie, and they all know it.

There’s grainy newsreel of the accident, shared with the world because being talented means sharing all sorts of things with the world, never mind if that thing is kneeling on asphalt, praying, while your bandmate lies teetering between life and death.

Yunho hasn’t seen it.

They were busy when it was happening, and in a different country, but Yunho still spoke to three manager-hyungs about it anyway, ironing out the details. Because he was the leader, and because Donghae called him sobbing and there was nothing Yunho could do or say to make it better and he thought maybe hearing firsthand accounts would be suitable penance for the horror of it.

Junsu’s been getting daily updates from Hyukjae and Hyukjae’s manager and so he knows most of all of them that Lee Hyukjae is very much _not fine._

But they’re tired, and if the alternative is dealing with how they don’t even have a break long enough to go back to Seoul until fucking _June_ , well.

Yunho turns his volume back up, clicks back to _O_ , and tries very hard not to think about it.

\--

The next day it’s him and Jaejoong alone in the apartment before anyone else wakes up in time to drive to the Cross FM for their radio show, and Yunho hates that he’s never going to not be an early riser since he’s the leader.

Things are awkward.

That morning Yunho ignored the disapproving look his manager shot him and swallowed two suppressants dry even though he’d been showing absolutely no signs of pre-heat. After that, he woke Junsu and Yoochun and sent the former to go wake Changmin, which went about as well as expected.

Jaejoong wandered in moments later looking unfairly refreshed holding his own bottle of suppressants in one hand.

He still looks unfairly refreshed, only now he’s finished with the water and the medicine and Yunho has no idea where to look, let alone what to do with his hands.

Things are so, so awkward.

“Are you really starting us this early?” says Jaejoong finally.

When Yunho turns to raise an eyebrow at him, he sets the bottle down on the table with a solid sounding clang, and seems to take pleasure in the way Yunho glares at it.

“Are you going to be an asshole every spring?” he fires right back, not one to be outdone.

Jaejoong pauses, looking guilty. “Yunho-yah,” he starts to say, but gets interrupted by the rest of the band before he can.

Changmin files into the kitchen first, cursing, and pointedly dodging every swipe Yoochun makes at him with all the ease of youth. “Don’t touch my hair,” he’s saying, even as Yoochun starts going on about Disney characters again.

Junsu’s following the two of them bowed over his phone, brows pulled together and no doubt already conversing with Hyukjae.

Tokyo’s not any bit ahead of Seoul, but Yunho’s not surprised Hyukjae’s already up and texting. Between the dicey nature of canceling preplanned schedules and the fact that Yunho himself knows how awful doing nothing is, he’s almost expecting it.

Changmin finishes verbally eviscerating Yoochun in time to take the glass Jaejoong hands to him, eyes the pill bottle briefly with a sigh, before popping two into his mouth and swallowing them without a pause.

He casts his gaze downwards sadly a moment after that, and when Yoochun and Junsu figure out why, the kitchen devolves into chaos again.

Yunho feels the tension from before finally starting to ease.

“We have to be at the studio early,” he says, over the shouting. “Car.”

None of them look at him.

Jaejoong pulls him aside before they head downstairs, watching the way Manager-hyung rolls his eyes yet still humors Yoochun and Changmin’s shenanigans with one considering eye. “Hyung,” he says.

Yunho tilts his head, somewhat taken aback. He’s certainly not Jaejoong’s hyung.

“I’m sorry,” Jaejoong starts to say, at the same time Yunho says, “are you going to be like this every heat season?”

A flush settles high and angry across Jaejoong’s cheeks.

Junsu and Yoochun race Manager-hyung for the elevator, but Changmin hangs back, fiddling with the straps on his backpack like there’s something wrong with them. Yunho knows better. Yunho can practically picture him with pricked up dog ears, like Taepoong, cocked back listening to him and Jaejoong. He knows it should bother him; Changmin never does this outside of heat season and never with anyone else, but for some reason, Yunho can’t find it in him to be mad at Changmin about it.

“Yunho.” Jaejoong’s tone is a little sharper, his gaze a little more shrewd, and Yunho sighs.

“Forget it, you’re right,” he says, and tries out a smile. “But you should probably pay better attention to the calendar--”

Jaejoong is groaning before Yunho finishes. “Not you too,” he says, and drapes an arm around Changmin as they reach the youngest outside the elevator, which opens nearly instantly when Yunho slaps a palm to the button.

“You know beta women make a huge fuss about that shit, right?” Jaejoong says, drawing Yunho’s attention right back to the conversation at hand. He steps inside the elevator with Changmin, who goes along with it with those imaginary dog ears flat to the sides of his head, arms crossed over his chest protectively, back hunching a little.

Yunho follows after them with only minor pause. He knows Changmin’s been in the gym a lot, but it’s one thing to know that and another to hear about it on variety shows and yet _another_ to be faced with the pull of Changmin’s bicep underneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

Their maknae still looks greenish.

Probably he’s heard an update about Kyuhyun.

“You’d think the two of you would understand most of all--”

Yunho really has no idea what Jaejoong is talking about.

“Yeah well, it’s not our fault it actually is rut season and you actually are a dick without medicine,” snaps Changmin, clearly not having that problem. He says it like it’ll throw Jaejoong’s arm off of him, and Yunho is for a second mildly taken aback.

But Jaejoong just laughs and cuddles Changmin harder. This is how they work. This is soulfighter.

It makes Yunho’s chest twinge something fierce.

“Be that as it may,” Jaejoong says as the elevator door swings open on their smiling bandmates faces--Manager-hyung and Bodyguard-hyung look less than impressed by their tardiness, but Yunho glazes over them with all the practice of three years.

“We’re late,” interrupts Changmin, ducking out from underneath Jaejoong’s arm with his hands clasped behind his back. He bats his eyelashes. “Sorry.”

Manager-hyung looks for a second like he’d like nothing more than to pet Changmin or something, but then he sighs and goes for a gentle ear cuff instead.

“Yunho-yah,” Jaejoong says again as they file off in a mostly single file line. “I really am sorry.”

Yunho just stares straight ahead. “Don’t worry about it,” he lies to the back of Changmin’s head. It’s not that big of a deal. So Jaejoong doesn’t think he’s cut out for this, for leading this band. So what. That’s not how he always feels--that’s just the rut talking, or something.

Actions speak louder than words, anyway, and they have years and years filled with a whole multitude of actions to make up for one little argument in the middle of a studio in Tokyo.

It’s not that big of a deal.

Which is true, for two years.

\--

From 2007 to 2009, Yunho lives his life in what feels very much like the fast lane. Kyuhyun survives the accident and Super Junior barely survives China, but Yunho has very little time for more than passing exchanges with Jungsoo-hyung and Heechul-hyung.

He sees less of Donghae once Super Junior M is formed, and even less of him still when TVXQ stops simply coasting through Japan, and well and truly starts to _conquer_ Japan.

They do two albums, fifteen singles, and two live tours. They do A-Nation three more times, soar the Oricon daily chart, and win _album of the fucking_ year at the Mnet Korean Music Festival in 2008.

Changmin cries on stage.

Yunho pulls him into his arms and holds him by the back of the head and thinks that this is all he’s ever dreamed of, so it doesn’t matter that he’s probably slept enough for only one of those two years, or that he spent New Years not seeing his family and was instead trapped in recording studios for Japanese radio shows and variety programs.

It doesn’t matter than he’s fucking over his body to the point where his mother calls him near tears about the state of her currently non-existent--and at the rate Yunho’s going potentially forever non-existent--grandchildren.

It doesn’t matter because it’s a dream, and so in February 2009, two days after Valentine’s Day, Yunho signs on the dotted line without so much as blinking because he can’t stand to think about not being part of TVXQ.

His father hasn’t been involved in his contract since 2005, but they have an ongoing text chat about it that Yunho takes the courtesy to update on his way out of the room.

 _Went well_ , he says. _I’m going to be doing a drama in July_.

He spares his father the details of how his flight schedule for the summer is probably going to be hell on tiny wheels and oversized engines, but that’s because it’s not really important in the grand scheme of things.

Yunho’s just glad they’ve finished everything up without going longer than a month, because the hush-hush way they’ve been herded around SM is never exactly fun. They’re never allowed to talk to each other about contract negotiation, because that would defeat the purpose of them going alone.

Jaejoong, Junsu, and Yoochun’s dabbling into a Chinese cosmetics business has been a sticking point for the entire process, but Yunho is confident from his Manager-hyung’s smile that everyone has agreed for the years terms and that TVXQ will be going on to bigger and greater things.

They might even find a way to top ‘Mirotic.’

Yunho’s not sure how, but he’s heard the songs for the new Japanese album and he’s seen the specs for the outline of their Japanese tour and it’s enough to have the butterflies in his stomach practically singing.

So he doesn’t notice the sour twist to Jaejoong’s mouth, or the way Junsu and Yoochun are bowed over their phones, and the stubborn angle to Changmin’s jaw that lets them all know that someone has been talking about him like he’s not fucking there.

 He doesn’t notice that not all of the manager-hyungs are smiling, or how Jaejoong, Junsu, and Yoochun slide into the back row in the van without any of their usual hemming and hawing.

He doesn’t even _think_ about it, and in five months, it’s all he can fucking think about, listening to his manager-hyung talk on the phone with his livid father, and wondering how it fucking came to this.

He still doesn’t even know what happened at the meeting one month ago, only that Jaejoong’s alpha sister, Junsu’s alpha father, and Yoochun’s beta mother were all present. He still doesn’t know what happened between now and Tuesday, only that he left for drama filming in Seoul for all of two days and when he came back Changmin was locked in his room blasting music and Jaejoong, Junsu, and Yoochun had lawyers and a lawsuit and five tabloid headlines and counting.

He doesn’t know how one month of can we talk about this turned into pick a convenient court date, we’re coming for everything you love.

“I understand what you’re saying perfectly, Jung-ssi,” says Manager-hyung, and hangs up the phone with a sour twist to his mouth. When Yunho looks at him, he tries out a smile. “Changmin’s mom called earlier,” he says. “If you’d believe it, that phone call was somehow worse.”

Yunho would believe it. Two weeks before they flew to Paris for _Bonjour Paris_ , the five of them somehow ended up out to dinner with Changmin’s parents. Alone. Yoochun and Junsu very quickly excused themselves to monopolize the bathroom and Changmin’s cell phone with frantic messages and cries for help, but Yunho and Jaejoong had been left alone to smile and hold down the fort and field questions about the way they were treating Changmin on variety programs, etc.

It had single handedly been the worst and most amusing moment of Yunho’s life; on the one hand, he rather felt like he’d never have to fear meeting his future wife’s in-laws because there was no way that could be worse; on the other hand, watching Changmin storm into his family home with his ears practically on _fire_ shouting at his mother to stop _embarrassing him_ and for his father to stop _laughing_ because it _wasn’t funny_ had made the entire experience worth it.

When they filmed the behind the scenes in Paris, Jaejoong very kindly removed Yunho, Junsu, and Yoochun from the story, and Changmin very kindly pinched him in the lower back for the next three takes.

At the time, Yunho had been too in awe of France for anything more than mild amusement.

Now, all he can feel is the ache of nostalgia, and the growing panic that he’ll never set foot outside of South Korea ever again.

“Yunho-yah.” It’s Manager-hyung, looking apologetic.

His phone is nowhere in sight, but he’s got their paper schedule pulled up in front of him on the kitchen table.

“Yes?” Yunho’s voice comes out missing most of itself, and he clears his throat somewhat desperately. “Yes?”

“Go get Changmin,” says Manager-hyung.

Yunho straightens, eyes painfully dry. “Changmin?”

“You need to record _Bigeast Station_ ,” Manager-hyung says. “Episode 142.”

Yunho’s temples throb.

“We said we’d only be doing two episodes,” he says.

Of course, they hadn’t said that. Junsu had, only the week before, pretending it was December and trying not to talk about how Yunho and Changmin were both busy with their drama schedules. Yunho’d come straight to Avex when he’d landed on the 22nd, met Changmin in the booth to record their missing episodes without so much as pausing to do more than read the scripts, and then fallen straight into bed the moment they’d made it home.

The plan was for a special with the five of them, in time for their debut Anniversary and Christmas, and then the year would be over and they’d reconsider if they wanted to keep going.

Yunho says as much, feeling like he’s barely even breathing.

“Well, it’ll just have to be three episodes,” says Manager-hyung. “It’ll be fine.”

“The fans will notice,” Yunho says, voice paper thin.

The cracks in Manager-hyung’s smile have cracks. “The fans are a little busy right now,” he says. “Go get Changmin.”

“Right,” Yunho says, and goes to get Changmin.

There’s a script, there are jokes, and Yunho accidentally talks about how the first thing he looks for in a girl are her breasts and stumbles into a trap where pieces of ham turn into affairs. It’s nice to laugh, and laugh, and pretend, if only for twenty minutes, that their world isn’t imploding on itself.

\--

A temporary injunction is, for all intents and purposes, a show of force.

“It’s to show us that they mean business,” their managers say, backed up by the best lawyers SM can buy. “And that because the court granted it, they have the negotiating power.”

“Right,” Changmin says, tone not at all emotionless.

Yunho looks at him before he can help himself, hesitant. He doesn’t know why Changmin’s stayed, only that he has, and any attempts to ask him why or if he’s serious have ended with him trapped back in his room with the music blaring.

If they were talking to each other, Yoochun would no doubt be begging Yunho to apologize in service to his eardrums, but since they’re not talking to each other, Yunho has taken to letting the arguments fester unhelpfully.

It’s a distraction, because being mad at Changmin for throwing tantrums is straightforward and easily dealt with and not at all the elephant in the room, which is that they’re not speaking to each other, that Jaejoong and Yoochun keep going back and forth to Japan for their own schedules, and that the District Court of Seoul has issued a temporary injunction preventing SM from meddling with their business, as the lawyers put it.

“You understand we cannot suspend your Japanese activities,” another Manager-hyung says. “They’re so hard to schedule, and _Kohaku Uta Gassen_ is…”

“A big deal,” Yunho says. They’d been so excited when they’d announced it. Now it just feels like an empty promise, like they’ll be standing on stage mostly for show. He’s had enough of that for lifetimes between Bangkok and all the music programs they couldn’t pull out of in Japan. It’s why he let them cancel Shenzen.

“What else do we have to do with them?” Changmin asks, and Yunho turns to look at him more fully again.

Of the two of them, it seems Changmin’s skipped right past denial and straight into anger, and it comes off him in vicious, rolling waves. There’s more there for Yunho to unpack and it starts with why Changmin left a deposition prep near tears and unable to meet his eyes, but Yunho has his own stages of grief to work through and not nearly enough time.

The year is ending, Avex’s contracts have come calling, and the thorns in their sides are seemingly never ending. _Bigeast Station_. _Kohaku Uta Gassen_. _Break Out_.

It’s enough to make Yunho dizzy.

He lifts his head.

Around him, the conversation has churned on, but Changmin is looking at him with too wide, too shrewd eyes.

“Yunho-hyung,” he says.

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho replies.

“It’ll be fine,” Changmin says. “We’ll be fine.”

Yunho nods.

“You will,” says Manager-hyung. “And when they file the lawsuit, we’ll win.” His voice tapers off, concerned. “We have to.”

\--

The day Matsuura-sachou looks them in the face and tells them in no uncertain terms that he’s simultaneously suspending TVXQs activities and also debuting JYJ as a new subgroup, Yunho goes straight home, opens the bathroom cabinet, and pours his entire bottle of suppressants down the drain.

He can hear Changmin ruining his fingers in the hallway outside the room with one ear and listens to the drone of their managers calling home to Seoul with terse, clipped voices and level-headed ultimatums with the other.

They’ll sue them back. They’ll sue them _first_. They’ll put Yunho and Changmin on the first plane home _without_ JYJ and talk fucking _then._

Yunho’s not thinking straight.

He’s jetlagged, sleep deprived, and falling apart at the seams, but the thought of ruining himself for one more year over something that might not even _survive_ that fucking year’s end is enough to make him sick on top of it.

So, he doesn’t take his pill and he doesn’t call his father and when they land secretly at Gimpo he goes straight home to lock himself in his room to pointedly not have a cry about it.

Changmin does drama filming, Yunho books more than enough _weddings_ , and the morning of April 6th finds him outside Super Junior’s dorm demanding that Heechul-hyung get him _plastered_.

Heechul-hyung takes one look at the disheveled miserable state of him, and goes to get him the good stuff.

“Soju,” he says, pouring Yunho a shot. “You look like shit.”

Yunho downs the glass in one acidic gulp. “I feel like shit,” he says.

Heechul-hyung pours him another without pausing. “Justifiable,” he says. “Your life’s kind of shit right now.”

Yunho wants to laugh. “I’ll say,” he says.

“Have you spoke to Changminnie at all?”

Heechul-hyung’s not pouring the soju fast enough, so Yunho reaches for the bottle himself, and by some stroke of luck, manages to pry it from his hyung’s fingers.

“Changminnie’s gone to hang out with SHINee,” he says.

He doesn’t really know how he knows that--maybe Changmin had said something to him once they’d exited the airport; maybe he’s irrationally annoyed about the pointless dating rumors--but they’d taken separate company vans and exchanged very limited conversation on the plane ride home.

Heechul-hyung is looking at him like he pities him, so Yunho releases the bottle with a sigh.

It’s not really helping anything. The pain is no less muddled, the horror no less real, and the reality of the situation is only sinking in faster through the haze of alcohol.

“You look like a lobster,” Heechul-hyung says harshly.

Yunho sinks back into Super Junior’s couch with a scowl. “Shut up.”

He doesn’t know where the rest of Heechul-hyung’s floor has gone, but he’s grateful that his hyung is terrifying and no one wants to mess with him. He’s fucking pissed off, is what he is, and he wants to be fucking _pissed_.

He reaches for the bottle.

“You should slow down.” Heechul-hyung’s voice sounds funny, but Yunho ignores him.

“You should join me,” he says. “Hyung.”

For a second, he thinks he’s gone too far and lost Heechul-hyung as well, but then his hyung sighs, and gets up to grab a second shot glass.

“Moderation is good, Yurobbong,” he explains when Yunho raises an eyebrow. “Now be a good dongsaeng and pour.”

Yunho pours.

\--

At around three a.m., Yunho is not at all nearly drunk enough, and also, he’s starting to feel funny, for lack of a better term. He’s dizzy, a little lightheaded, and everything in the room starts to taste awful and in turn gorgeous between one blink and the next.

For a few moments, that’s enough to keep Yunho interested, until Heechul-hyung gets up to finally get rid of their half empty soju bottle. When the older alpha walks by the air stops feeling quite so hot and heavy and Yunho finds himself tilting after him before he can help himself.

Heechul-hyung put them on water several hours ago so maybe Yunho just has to pee, but his belly feels weird and his eyes won’t stay open and so when Heechul-hyung comes back into the room shaking his head, it’s easy for Yunho to clamor up over him and into his lap the moment the older man sinks into the couch beside him.

There’s a beat.

Heechul-hyung’s breath comes out in a sudden, startled gust somewhere around Yunho’s left ear.

For some reason, all Yunho wants to do is nuzzle into the meat of his shoulder.

“Yurobbong.” Heechul-hyung’s voice sounds strangled.

Yunho hums, not really focusing. He doesn’t really fit in Heechul-hyung’s lap, but that’s fine, he can just bunch up his legs a little more and curl himself a little better into the older man’s neck and everything will be beautiful.

“Yunho-yah.” Heechul-hyung is talking to him again.

Yunho hums again, still not paying that much attention. He really, really wants to lick Heechul-hyung now, so he leans forward--

A hand seals itself in the hair on the back of his head and yanks, startling Yunho out of his own thoughts with a great stab of pain.

“Ow, Hyung!” he yelps, struggling, and then freezes. “Oh my God.”

Heechul-hyung doesn’t let go of him. “Yunho-yah.” He doesn’t even have time for nicknames. “How drunk are you?”

Yunho’s heart feels like it’s going a mile a minute.

The label on his suppressant bottle mocks him in slow motion as the memory of himself pouring the entire thing down the drain in a rage immediately following the meeting comes back with all the force and finesse of a train crash.

“Not nearly enough,” he whispers.

Heechul-hyung still doesn’t let go of his head.

Yunho wants to ask him why, but then he doesn’t need to, because Heechul-hyung has leaned in close and opened his mouth, inhaling deeply.

He scored lower than Yunho, Yunho remembers. Lower even than pre-presentation Changmin, and Changmin had been something of a scent black hole before he presented. The doctors had told Heechul-hyung that he should be fine when it came time to finding a nice omega to settle down with, and that he might be more sensitive under extenuating circumstances. Then they’d smiled and moved down the line.

Clearly Yunho being in heat, and so damn quickly in heat too--and damn if he shouldn’t have come to drink himself stupid with Heechul-hyung, a fucking _alpha_ , and all of Heechul-hyung’s _alpha_ bandmates like some sort of mindless _idiot_ \--is one such extenuating circumstance.

Heechul-hyung is still breathing right next to Yunho’s ear.

“If you do not let go of me in five seconds,” Yunho manages to grit out, voice rough and already decomposing. “I am going to knee you in the fucking balls.”

For a second, he thinks Heechul-hyung is going to call his bluff, which, it’s his balls’ loss, and then the older alpha releases him and shoves Yunho away from him in one great huff. “Some of us take our pills, Yunho-yah,” he says, but it isn’t Yurobbong yet, so Yunho’s not entirely out of the woods.

“Some of us are still idols,” he says, crossing his arms. He should get up, but he’s afraid to. He doesn’t feel wet yet, but he’s going to be, and he doesn’t want to be. Not yet.

It’s one thing to read about something in a medical chart and school mandated sex-ed. It’s another thing entirely to live it.

Heechul-hyung laughs, high and amused and not entirely in control yet. He’s keeping his face very pointedly angled away from Yunho. “You’re still a fucking idol, Yurobbong,” he says, and Yunho heaves a sigh of instant and gratified relief. “You’re just going through some molting, is all.”

“Molting,” Yunho says.

Heechul-hyung shrugs. “I don’t know.” He says. “You and Changminnie and Jun--” He breaks off when Yunho’s throat makes a wounded, dying animal sort of sound. “TVXQ is like a beautiful bird, or something. And you’re shedding your skin.”

Yunho’s mouth opens and closes. “What the fuck?”

Heechul-hyung scowls at him. “What?”

“Snakes shed their skin, Hyung,” Yunho manages. “Not birds.”

“No but some do,” says Heechul-hyung. “There’s fire involved and like… death… don’t look at me like that _you’re_ the one who got me this drunk in the first place.” Heechul-hyung reaches out and sticks a finger right in the center of Yunho’s chest.

Yunho blinks down at it, head titled. “You mean like phoenixes?” he starts to say.

“Whatever.” Heechul-hyung pulls his hand back as if burned. “You’re molting, you’ll be fine eventually, your life is _not_ over.”

Yunho lets his confusion fade right back into despair. “It certainly fucking _feels_ like it,” he says.

Heechul-hyung settles into the couch as close to him as he can manage without touching, and sighs. “I’ll say,” he says.

And then he frowns, furrows his brow, and gets up like he’s been burned.

“Hyung?” Yunho misses him with a sudden and all consuming ache right in the center of his chest.

“Your life might not be over now,” says Heechul-hyung, pawing through Yunho’s bag without even a care for privacy. “But I can guarantee that in about two hours.” He pauses, breathes deeply, goes cross eyed for two seconds, then scowls. “One and a _half_ , hours.” He sounds annoyed at the very thought of it. “You’re going to wish it was.”

Yunho crosses his arms over his chest and glowers. “I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about,” he says, because he can’t quite figure out why but he’s _livid_ that Heechul-hyung is ignoring him for his fucking _phone_.

“Oh you will.” Heechul-hyung finishes with Yunho’s phone and lowers his hand so that Yunho can see he’s called someone. “Trust me. I live with Donghae, and you’re going to be _miserable_.”

Yunho opens his mouth to protest, severely confused, but the ringing of his phone distracts him.

“Here.” Heechul-hyung tosses the thing at him. “It’s for you.”

Yunho picks the phone up off his sternum with a gentle oof, and frowns down at the caller ID. “Why would Changdollie be calling you?” He doesn’t know why, but now he’s pissed at Heechul-hyung for fucking _existing_.

Heechul-hyung covers his nose with a scowl, eyes rolling. “I call fucking best man at the wedding,” he mutters, but that makes absolutely no sense, so Yunho just picks up the phone without pausing.

“Hello?”

“Yunho-hyung?” Changmin sounds angry and worried and panicked all rolled into one. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

Yunho blinks. “Heechul-hyung’s house?”

Changmin’s voice goes distant, and Yunho thinks he hears him swearing. “Yunho-hyung,” he says again, though it’s more of a bark. “Don’t fucking _move_.”

And in hindsight, Yunho should have just not answered the fucking phone, because something in Yunho’s hindbrain turned the on the moment Changmin _spoke_ to him, and it’s not like Yunho’s going to sit shell-shocked on Heechul-hyung’s couch shouting for someone to get him a fucking blanket _now_ you asshole and not fucking moving just because Changmin told him to it’s more--

There’s a high chance, like maybe, eighty percent type high, that if Yunho stands up now, he’ll have to face the fact that he’s probably going to have to burn this pair of boxers and buy Super Junior a new couch. Maybe he could burn down their apartment to erase all evidence, and then buy them a new goddamn apartment.

He could certainly afford it; he’s a member of South Korea’s biggest boyband.

Only, no, he’s not anymore, which is the problem to begin with. Currently speaking, Yunho is benched, experiencing his first fucking heat, and well and truly shit out of luck.

“Well… fuck me,” Yunho says.

“I’ll say,” agrees Heechul-hyung.

Yunho reaches over and hurls a pillow at him.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/171430430650/title-my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/969364945145081856)


	6. scorch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things: One, this chapter well and truly earns its rating this is what we’re all here for enjoy. Two, take care of your sex toys everybody.
> 
> Betaed by Hexmen and Kinah. All other mistakes are my own.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
>  **Note:** Hovering over vocabulary (on a browser) will bring up a box with definitions. This information can also be found in the [Primer](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/aboau).

**6\. Scorch**

\--

Changmin shows up to the Super Junior dorm in sweats, a t-shirt, and what looks suspiciously like three face masks.

Heechul-hyung takes one look at him and starts laughing hysterically.

Yunho takes one look at him and very quickly determines he needs his own face mask right the fuck now. Changmin smells delicious. Granted, Heechul-hyung also smells delicious, and jokes aside, Yunho would much rather stay like family with Heechul-hyung than marry into the family with Heechul-hyung. So maybe the roof of Yunho’s mouth, like the fire in Yunho’s belly, is a fucking traitor and can’t be trusted.

Certainly that explains why the first thing he does when he finishes _not_ sniffing the hell out of Changmin, is press down on the blanket Heechul-hyung got him like that’ll stop his erection from ruining what little bit of band he has left.

He really, really, _really_ needs that face mask.

Like clockwork, Changmin produces a fourth one from somewhere among the depths of his bag. He seems to be handling it extremely carefully and it still has the tags on so it’s not going to smell like anything but a convenience store, but when Heechul-hyung manages to compose himself long enough to grab and hand the thing to Yunho, it still manages to smell just enough like Changmin to leave Yunho’s lips parting.

Yunho wants Super Junior’s couch to swallow him fucking whole.

Changmin’s eyes are very wide and very red around the edges. Clearly, he agrees. “Hyung,” he says gruffly.

Yunho’s thinking brain isn’t sure which of them Changmin’s addressing. Yunho’s less-thinking brain wants Heechul-hyung to leave and never come back.

“Changdol,” Yunho manages to say. His voice sounds unrecognizable. “You really didn’t need to come.”

Changmin’s cheeks flush startling red in two seconds flat, but Yunho can’t do more than furrow his brow about that, because Heechul-hyung is laughing again.

“Yeah, you definitely needed to come,” he says, and wipes non-existent tears from the corners of his eyes. “But Shim.”

Changmin seems to stand to attention, shoulders back.

Heechul-hyung looks almost sober now. “Don’t make me regret calling you.”

Changmin nods, jaw tight.

Yunho blinks between the two of them with a growing sense of horror in the pit of his stomach. “I’m not a fucking object,” he says, to be sure, and can’t quite fight the growl off when at least one of them--Changmin, shockingly, with doe eyes and a shudder running right through the length of him--winces.

“Manager-hyung’s waiting with the car,” says Changmin, saving face. “And--” He breaks off to fumble into his bag again, pulling out two canisters without much finesse. “I got you these.” He looks like he’s going to hand them to Yunho, then seems to think better of it, then seems to be _pissed_ at himself for thinking better of it.

Yunho squints up at the labels and feels heat flood his face. Scent blockers.

Changmin went and bought him scent blockers.  

Changmin might have to go and buy him more than just pheromone neutralizers, if the state of Yunho’s boxers is anything to judge by. For a second, Yunho is worried. This can’t be natural. Heat isn’t supposed to happen this fucking quickly.

“Can you.” Changmin looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “Can you walk?”

“You’re not getting this blanket back,” Yunho tells Heechul-hyung, and stands with the thing draped protectively in front of his dick. “Which car is it?” When Changmin doesn’t speak immediately, Yunho turns back towards him and glares.

Changmin nearly trips over himself in his haste to get to the door before Yunho does. “Uh, the white one,” he manages, then shakes his head. “No, the black one. Red one?” His eyes dart around the room nervously. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

Heechul-hyung seems to come back to himself. He walks the line of Super Junior’s hallway to clasp Changmin on the shoulder. “You’re such a virgin Changminnie, please,” he says.

“I’m not a fucking virgin,” Changmin spits back, but leans in anyway. “And don’t call me that.”

“What, Changminnie?” Amusement comes off Heechul-hyung in waves, curling around him in a way that Yunho’s almost finding visible.

The combination of the two of them, these people that Yunho has known for years and who’d never fucking _leave_ him to try and sell fucking baby sheep or whatever, is enough to make Yunho dizzy.

He looks down at the floor instead, and then at his shoes.

“You’re not helping _at all_ ,” Changmin is growling up at Heechul-hyung. The back of his neck is blushing.

Yunho realizes rather suddenly that of the two of them, only Heechul-hyung has on his shoes. He gasps. “Changmin-ah.”

The two of them to turn to face him with almost laser focus, and Yunho takes an automatic step back.

Changmin, at least, has the decency to look guilty.

Heechul-hyung just looks at him like he’d quite like to eat him, before his features shutter abruptly closed.

“Shoes,” Yunho manages, tightening his grip on the blanket defensively.

Changmin looks down, startled, and Heechul-hyung barks out a surprised laugh.

He releases Changmin, swinging around to marvel at the length of him. “Changmin-ah,” he says.

“Shut up, I panicked,” Changmin blurts, and with a quick and anxiety-ridden look back towards Yunho, stumbles his way out of the Super Junior dorm with a shout of, “I’ll see you at the car.”

There’s a moment of silence.

Heechul-hyung pads back over towards Yunho holding his sneakers.

“How am I supposed to find the car?” Yunho says a little miserably, but lets Heechul-hyung pull on his left shoe. “He couldn’t even tell me what color it is.”

Heechul-hyung ties the laces of Yunho’s sneaker in silence for a few seconds, then sighs. “Yurobbong,” he says quietly, voice very odd, and one hand stilling on top of the shoelaces. “Which direction is the elevator?”

Yunho blinks, steadying himself on the wall so that he can shove his foot into the other shoe. “What?”

“Which way did Changmin go?” Heechul-hyung rephrases, sounding patient.

Yunho blinks again. “How the fuck would I know?” he starts to say, even as the roof of his mouth aches a little and his brain produces the information: Changmin is two paces down the hallway to the right, and probably loitering in front of the elevators, too nervous to go on without him. Yunho’s mouth forms a small ‘o’.

Heechul-hyung finishes with the shoes and stands. “Yeah,” he says. “Best man.”

Yunho doesn’t have the energy to deal with correcting him. “Manager-hyung is going to kill me,” he says instead.

Heechul-hyung tilt his head. “Why?”

“Because my dad’s terrifying, and they have me on the good kind.”

Heechul-hyung blinks a few times.

“Suppressants,” Yunho explains, shuffling forward in the hallway still holding the blanket. He reaches for his jacket but doesn’t bother shrugging it on. “You know the things I dumped down the drain three days ago that got me into this mess in the first place?”

“Yurobbong, it’s heat season,” Heechul-hyung says. “And also, tell them to blame Kim fucking Jaejoong.”

Yunho’s mouth turns down at the corners before he can stop himself. “Hyung.”

Heechul-hyung waves a hand. “Never mind,” he says. “It’s not a big deal.”

Yunho thinks abruptly of the mess with Han Geng, but wisely stays silent.

And then Changmin is thumping on the door again and shouting for him, and Yunho puts all thoughts out of his mind so that he can manage to work himself up for leaving the safety of Heechul-hyung’s dorm.

“Hyung…” he tries to say.

“Absolutely not. I live with Lee Donghae,” Heechul-hyung says in one sentence. “One of you text me when you get back to your dorm.” Then he pulls open the door and shoves Yunho out of it.

Changmin’s face comes into view the moment that’s done, eyes practically saucers, and he stumbles back several steps when they end up nose to nose.

“Where are you going?” Yunho says mournfully, mouth already parting for the aftertaste of him, and grip on the blanket loosening.

“I’ll take that,” Heechul-hyung says, the asshole, and then slams the door shut behind the two of them before Yunho can so much as whimper in protest.

Changmin’s eyes, like fucking clockwork, slide right down Yunho’s t-shirt to the unfortunate tenting problem in the front of Yunho’s jeans.

One of them--both of them--whimpers.

Yunho shifts his jacket to the front of him. “Right,” he says with as much dignity as possible. “Which car is it again?”

He starts walking before he’s finished, feeling very much like every inch of him is shaking, and tries not to think too hard about the fact that he doesn’t seem to find the strength in his legs until he can hear Changmin staggering after him like a deer on an ice floe.

\--

The car ride back to the dorm is probably one of the worst experiences of Yunho’s life.

He and Changmin sit about as far as they can from each other in the car, so Yunho’s in the front seat by himself next to Manager-hyung--a beta, utterly unamused to hear Yunho had thrown out a few years’ worth of suppressants just because Matsuura-sachou was a quote ‘turncoat bastard’--and Changmin gets to hunker down in the back seat with his arms crossed over his chest and all of his face masks pulled up over his nose and mouth.

Manager-hyung has one covering his mouth as well, which unfortunately is doing nothing to mask the fact that he smells not at all appealing and quite a bit pissed off. Nor is it doing anything to lessen the barrage of lecture that he’s feeling the need to bestow upon Yunho and Changmin.

Unfortunately for Yunho, Changmin’s all the way in the back with his hair covering his eyes, so Manager-hyung is focusing most of his rage on Yunho.

If he wasn’t quite so worked up, he’d feel bad. It is, after all, nearly three-thirty now, and none of their other staff have joined Changmin in his mass crusade across Seoul to rescue Yunho from himself.

As it stands, Yunho’s uncomfortable, his ass is leaking, his dick is _throbbing_ , and fucking Changmin is sitting two rows behind him radiating arousal and annoyance and it is making Yunho’s knees start to _shake_.

“You’re paying for the next bottle,” says Manager-hyung.

“Right,” Yunho manages. He should definitely be speaking more. He clears his throat.

Manager-hyung doesn’t seem bothered. “You’re very lucky you have no schedules.”

From the back, Changmin scoffs.

Yunho’s fucking breath catches, but he agrees. “I wouldn’t call it luck,” he says for them both.

Manager-hyung seems apologetic for a quick second, but then he makes a left turn and the centrifugal force wafts some of Yunho’s air towards him in a great gust, and he white-knuckles on the steering wheel. “Fuck,” the man swears.

From the back, Changmin growls, then stops growling, and then starts giving off even more ‘I’m having a fucking _panic attack_ ’ pheromones.

Yunho opens and closes his mouth a few times in mild sympathy. Horrifically, he’s mostly just offended that he’s making Changmin so nervous. Like, Yunho is a catch goddammit. If anything, he should be the one annoyed.

Yunho crosses his arms across his chest and glowers out the front windshield.

Manager-hyung clears his throat a few times. “Standard leave time is two to three days,” he says.

Yunho’s head spins a little. He doesn’t want to think about feeling like this for two to three days, but he’s hoping once he locks himself in his room with his right hand everything will be fine.

Heats break, that’s a thing that he’s read about; everything is going to be _fine_.

Changmin’s worryingly silent from the back.

Yunho can’t even hear the sound of him breathing frantically through his nose, anymore. He glances towards the rearview mirror before he can help himself.

That’s a mistake.

Changmin’s staring back at him with two wild-looking brown eyes, brows pulled down and too-wide mouth no doubt bitten raw underneath the three face masks.

Yunho’s almost tempted to smell himself to see what the big deal is, but he knows better than to try. The elevator down to the car had been almost worse than getting into the car itself, because in the car at least Manager-hyung had been around to drag Yunho into the front seat away from Changmin.

In the elevator, there had only been Yunho’s ironclad self-control keeping him from planting both arms on the wall and fucking lifting his hips.

There’s a word for that and it starts with an ‘l,’ but Yunho’s only ever heard it used to talk about cats or in the particularly risqué sorts of porn Junsu likes to watch.

He’ll be damned if he uses it to refer to himself.

He’ll be damned if he thinks about fucking JYJ.

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin sounds like even speaking is a hardship.

Yunho hums in response before he can help himself, and then hates himself all the more.

“Stop thinking about our ex-bandmates.”

Manager-hyung makes an odd noise.

Yunho holds onto the sudden onslaught of rage with relief. “They’re not our ex-bandmates yet,” he says.

“Our company is suing them,” Changmin says.

Yunho wants to shrug. Yunho lifts his shoulders and they stay up near his ears like that’ll somehow protect him from the blaze of Changmin’s eyes. He should look away from the mirror. He’s finding he can’t.

Manager-hyung is clearing his throat even louder. “Leave time is two to three days,” he says again, almost like a broken record. “We’ll get you some water bottles and come up with an excuse for why you’re missing all the meetings.”

That gets Yunho to look away from Changmin, and he swears the car gives an audible sigh of relief. Or maybe that’s him. And maybe it’s not relief so much as it is wistfulness. Because he’s not looking at Changminnie anymore. And Changminnie is lovely. And what was Yunho saying again, fuck.

Manager-hyung shoots him a quick look and shakes his head. “The meetings about your future?” he explains.

“Oh yeah.” Yunho is the one clearing his throat now. “We have a future?”

“Not unless you promise to never pull a stunt like this again,” mutters Changmin from the back.

Manager-hyung ignores him. “Yes,” he says, and pulls into the garage.

Changmin shifts in the back seat and when Yunho turns to look--and that’s a mistake, fuck that was a _mistake_ , Yunho can’t fucking look _away_ \--he’s finally unfolded himself from the slouch and has uncrossed his legs. “Finally,” he says.

Manager-hyung pulls up next to their door.

Yunho blinks. “You’re not parking?”

Manager-hyung doesn’t even to turn to look at them. “Do you have groceries?”

Yunho thinks guiltily of the chore sheet in their kitchen with Yoochun’s name pasted next to ‘make sure the fridge isn’t empty’ and of the haphazard initial he’d put next to it to indicate he’d be doing that because Changmin was already penciled in for cleaning the bathroom.

“Thought so.” Manager-hyung puts the car in park and reaches over to unbuckle Yunho’s seat. “You’re going to need water.”

When his hand brushes the side of Yunho’s hip Yunho hisses, suddenly overcome, and the backseat erupts with the noise of Changmin angrily throwing himself out of his own safety mechanism and out of the car period.

Yunho’s door comes open immediately following and Manager-hyung finishes unbuckling Yunho like he’s been burned. They hadn’t even touched because Yunho’d had the foresight to put his jacket down as some sort of buffer (he’s not thinking about why he’s not thinking about why he’s _not thinking_ about why).

Manager-hyung still looks shaken.

Yunho’s throat bobs. He turns to the side, startled, but Changmin’s nowhere to be found, already vanishing through the garage door leaving nothing but the swirl of angry air and the faint echo of it’s closing.

Yunho stands somehow.

His knees are shaking again.

His brow is sweating again.   

Changmin’s scent is completely gone, neutralized by the smell of industry and Seoul and automobile, and for some reason it’s making Yunho _anxious_.

Manager-hyung’s mouth turns down. “Fuck,” he swears again, reaching across the gearshift to pull the door shut. “Yunho-yah.”

Yunho’d been stuck on the fact that Changmin had somehow closed the back car door and was, horrifyingly, three seconds from leaning forward to fucking _smell the door handle like a fucking idiot_ , but he lifts his head when called.

“Be careful,” Manager-hyung says.

Yunho’s shoulders lock and his jaw tightens. The words wash over him like a bucket of ice. He is not a thing. He does not need protecting. This is a perfectly natural thing that thousands of people go through every spring, and they live to talk about it and also repeat the process. Hell, this is how Yunho and his sister came to fucking be in the first place.

But he nods because he has to, and steps back so that Manager-hyung can pull away.

Then he steels himself, take a few deep breaths, and goes to face the proverbial music.

Changmin’s not waiting for him in the lobby, nor is he waiting for him by the elevators, and once Yunho’s finished being grateful for their doorman’s discretion and the emptiness of their building, he’s not even waiting for Yunho outside the dorm.

The door’s unlocked and Changmin’s shoes are startlingly missing from the shoe rack--it’s even more evident now that there aren’t three other people’s pairs of shoes to contend with--and Yunho can already hear the sound of blaring music coming from Changmin’s room.

Or the room Changmin claimed as his room the moment they realized that JYJ weren’t coming back.

Yunho closes their front door, locks their front door, and kicks off his shoes.

His jacket drops sorrowfully onto the floor.

Yunho doesn’t fucking care.

He rolls his shoulders back, breathes, and heads straight to his own bedroom to rub one out.

\--

So, jerking off is not helping at all.

Yunho admits this one hour later, sore, annoyed, and naked as the day he was born.

He’s lying sprawled across his bed with the blankets all the way kicked off and piled over on the second bed like that’ll somehow make everything smell less like Yoochun, and he’s so worked up and miserable that he just wants to cry.

Every orgasm is a horrible, unsatisfactory climb, and Yunho knows, of course, what he needs and what he wants but he’s been busy and this is his first heat and he is not about to just shove _fingers_ places without first, washing his hands and second, trimming his nails.

But to do that, he needs to leave the room, and to leave the room, he needs to put on clothes, and the thought of covering himself with anything is somehow even worse than the five unsatisfactory orgasms he’s managed to wring out of his life-ruining dick.

Yunho aches.

Yunho drops his hand onto the bed beside himself and tries not to groan.

He lifts his head and fumbles for his phone, dropped on his bedside table before he’d started in case he needed to call for help because he was fucking dying.          

Changmin’s said absolutely nothing for the entire hour.

Yunho is starting to wonder if Manager-hyung came back with the water and food.

His throat hurts from all the whining and moaning and near-sobbing.

Yunho sits up.

The first pair of pants he finds are skinny jeans, and that’s enough to have Yunho rolling right back over for yet another unsatisfying attempt to find some sort of relief by way of pillow humping.

The second pair of pants are sweat pants, and Yunho pulls them up over his hips and cock without pause, trying not to wince or think about how uncomfortable and how sticky he feels.

The thought of a shirt is debilitating.

The thought of anyone seeing him wandering around with his tits out is equally bad.

Yunho wants to sink to his knees and weep some more.

Instead, he breathes deeply, closes his eyes, and staggers his way to the door.

The hallway is deserted but the blare of Changmin’s music from the next room over is loud enough that Yunho almost slams back into his own room.

“No,” he says, because words make things real, and puts one sweating foot in front of the next until he’s made it to their bathroom.

Washing his hands is easy enough. He can just look down at the water running over his palms and ignore the shaking, flushing mess in the mirror in front of him.

But when he reaches up in the cabinet to grab the nail clippers he comes face to face with the full stretch of his chest, and it makes him clumsy and hurried and he’s knocking Changmin’s bottle of suppressants into the sink with a clang.

The cap is fucking on and the bottle has a childproof seal, but apparently the sound is pretty distinct, because Changmin’s X-Japan increases in volume and he comes skidding into the doorway screeching, “Don’t you fucking _dare_.”

Yunho stills with his hand on the still fully sealed bottle and his eyes wide.

Changmin’s still wearing the sweatpants, the t-shirt, and at least one of the face masks.

His hair is plastered to his forehead.

He looks almost more broken up than Yunho feels.

Yunho swallows, mouth already opening without his fucking permission, and feels his hips lift away from the bathroom sink before he can stop them.

Fucking.

Lordosis behavior.

Fucking.

Yunho is a fucking _cat_.

He wants to curl up in a ball and _cry_.

Changmin looks to be in a similar boat with his doe eyes humongous and his chest heaving.

He’s sweating through his own t-shirt and it’s making Yunho’s head spin to look at him. “Yunho--Yunho-hyung.” Changmin sounds like even forming Yunho’s name is too much.

Yunho agrees.

He can feel himself leaking, and all of a sudden the nail clippers lying on the counter seem to be the size of a small planet.

Changmin glances between them and the front of Yunho’s sweat pants, and then, somewhere near the vicinity of Yunho’s non-existent ass, and swallows.

Yunho would like the ground to swallow him whole so he can die.

“Was there something you needed, Changminnie?” he says. He tries to bite his own tongue off when he tacks on the nickname, and then winces when the sharp tang of his blood mixes with the pheromones caught up on the roof of his mouth.

Even his blood tastes desperate.

Yunho swallows.

Changmin looks like he has no idea what either of them were talking about.

Yunho watches a drop of sweat move down his forehead and come to stop on the flat edge of his collar bone.

The t-shirt has a fucking sinful neckline.

How did Yunho not _notice_ before?

Changmin’s throat bobs a few times before he seems to catch his breath. “Hyung,” he says again, leaving off Yunho’s name this time like that is somehow going to help. “Give me the bottle.”

Yunho glances down at the bottle in his hand, and frowns. “Oh, you thought…” he says, because oh. Changmin must have thought he was trying to sabotage the both of them.

Never mind the first thing Manager-hyung had done when they’d arrived to the car was hand Changmin a water bottle and a new, still sealed bottle of suppressants to swallow complete with an ‘open your mouth and say goddamn ‘ah’’ command afterwards.

Yunho closes his mouth, suddenly feeling parched, and licks at his lips.

Changmin makes a strangled, dying noise.           

Yunho concurs. “It was an accident,” he says miserably, and gently toes at some of the other things that fell. Aspirin. An extra roll of toilet paper.

Changmin looks down at Yunho’s toe, and then up Yunho’s leg, and then down at Yunho’s fucking dick, before making another one of those frantic noises and turning his attention equally frantically towards the bathroom counter.

And the nail clippers.

His eyes widen.

Yunho is the one making high pitched noises now. “Here,” he says, tossing the bottle at Changmin desperately and not even feeling bad when Changmin has to work to catch it.

Now he’s thinking about Changmin’s reflexes, and about how when they were on that Super Junior show the PD cut all of Changmin’s footage out and no one got to see how damn quick the younger boy was.

Yunho nearly takes off his own tongue trying to keep from whining.

“Thanks.” Changmin sounds strangled. “I’m just going to go now.” And then he pivots, straight-backed, and vanishes from the doorway.

Yunho watches him go until the blast of X-Japan goes back to being muffled between several walls, and then finally lets out the breath he’d been holding.

He could swear he hears the sound of thudding from Changmin’s room, but he’s too busy reaching with shaking hands for the nail clippers.

“This is fine,” Yunho says, and shuts his eyes. “It’s fine.”

\--

He’s cut his nails, he’s washed his hands, and he’s back in his room with the door closed (but not locked because, again, he could die and he’d like the paramedics to not destroy the door to save him). By all means, Yunho should be well and truly on his way to ending this heat then and now.

Only, he just.

He can’t quite figure out how to begin.

Well, no. That’s unfair.

Yunho knows perfectly well how to go about doing it. He’s got a laptop. He can fucking use Naver and Google. His internet history will never be the same but Yunho knows all about prostates now.

He has _way too much_ information about how to begin.

Now he just has to.

Yunho lies star-fished in the middle of his bed and whines.

Maybe if he turns out the lights, that’ll help somehow. But. He has to get up for that.

“Fuck,” Yunho says. He stands on shaking legs and makes his way over to the light switch, slapping a palm across it so that the room goes shrouded in darkness. Somehow that makes things even worse, because now that he can’t see anything, Yunho can practically smell everything.

He even fancies he can smell Changmin, two rooms down blowing out his eardrums pretending this isn’t happening to either of them.

Yunho goes back over to his bed and lies back down. “Right,” he says to himself.

Changmin’s music transitions from X-Japan into what Yunho rather panickedly thinks is that English song ‘Pony’ by some person with wine in their name. It gets through barely five beats before Changmin is making an audible-through-two-rooms wailing noise and then the music cuts out completely.

Yunho stares at the ceiling of his room for a long, long while. “Wow,” he says finally.

X-Japan starts up again, then stops, and then Yunho is forced to listen to the sound of Changmin leaving his room to go who knows where.

He doesn’t leave the dorm, and Yunho doesn’t know if he’s thankful for it, or not.

He’s probably put headphones in and has decided to go and make use of the kitchen with all of the food Manager-hyung said he’d be bringing them.

Yunho closes his eyes and counts to ten. “Stop thinking about Changmin,” he tells himself.

His dick twitches.

His ass leaks.

Yunho puts both hands over his face and groans.

“Right,” he says again. “You can do this.”

He pulls his hand away from his face and breathes some more, then rolls over so that he can shove his entire face into the mattress. He can’t breathe properly because of the cloud of pheromones clinging to what feels like every goddamn fiber, but that doesn’t matter, because all he has to do is close his eyes and think of literally anything else.

“It’s going to be fine,” Yunho tells himself. “You’re going to be fine.”

He’s done the reading. He’s cut his nails.

So maybe, the thought of putting anything up there is making Yunho want to throw himself out their window, but clearly he needs it and clearly he can’t keep lying here jerking off to no avail until either he expires from the stress of it or his dick falls off, so Yunho is going to take one for the team and fucking. Fuck himself. With his fingers.

He reaches back with his left hand, and after a pause, puts his right one on his dick because hell if he’s going to do this without holding onto his dick. Holding onto his dick is easy and straightforward and nothing Yunho’s never done before, and it feels nice and good, and if Yunho closes his eyes and doesn’t think too hard he can pretend he’s not doing what he’s doing and oh, well, that’s that then.

Yunho forces his eyes open and takes deep, mildly panicked breaths.

And then his dick fucking throbs and his asshole fucking clenches and all of a sudden Yunho understands, because biology is fucking biology and Lordosis behavior has a fucking purpose and when he moves his hips just so that would be his fucking prostate and it’s only _luck_ that Yunho manages to keep his hand on his dick for orgasm number whatever the hell.

Yunho sees stars. His toes curl. He goes lightheaded, then foggy, and then almost feels sad that it’s over so fast, because he’d barely managed to say hello to said prostate before he was coming like he hadn’t been able to manage before.

“Wow,” Yunho says, surprised. The internet had said it’d be good, but then, the internet had said fingers wouldn’t be enough and was also convinced Yunho was an alpha and mated to fucking _Jaejoong_ , so what did it know, really.

Yunho doesn’t need anything but his fingers. His fingers had been _fucking amazing_.

At this rate, Yunho figures he’ll be back to normal in no time at all.

In hindsight, that was probably when Yunho should have knocked on wood or something.

\--

Changmin is sitting at the kitchen counter with his headphones in at a volume that Yunho can hear all the way from the hallway, shoulders stiff and tension coming off him in physical waves.

Yunho has to clear his throat three times and finally come over and tap him on the back.

(And boy, what kind of special hell is that, standing in the middle of their kitchen touching Changmin and feeling like he’s gone and stuck his fingers in a live socket for how tense that makes him and then getting tense _other places_ because the only reason he’s in this situation in the first place is because sticking his fingers places hadn’t fucking helped _at all_.)

Changmin jumps like he’s the one being electrocuted and nearly brains himself in his haste to get away from Yunho’s hand. His headphones come yanking out of the laptop.

“Yunho-hyung!” His voice is high pitched and significantly louder than it probably should be.

It’s distracting.

“Are you making yourself deaf?” Yunho says, concerned. He wants to touch Changmin again, but only out of consideration and worry.

Changmin darts a look between Yunho’s still outstretched hand up Yunho’s bare, sweating arm, to the swell of Yunho’s bare, sweating bicep, right into the slope of Yunho’s bare, sweating pectoral.

He swallows twice in rapid succession. “Did you need something?” Changmin’s voice is still high but it’s quieter now. “Water?” He stands, reaching for the fridge, and then aborting when he realizes he has to go by Yunho to get to it. “The internet said you’d need water.”

Yunho can see his laptop now, abandoned on the counter in front of him open to what looks like LOL and also several internet tabs.

Changmin’s headphones are dangling sorrowfully from his oversized ears, but his music hasn’t come blaring out of the computer, so Yunho doesn’t even have that to distract him.  

He lowers his hand. “Yes,” he says, when he realizes Changmin did actually ask him a question. “Um.”

Changmin looks like he has no idea where to put his eyes, and so seems to settle for staring somewhere off in the general direction of the rooms. “What do you need?” His voice is still very shrill and compromised.

Yunho listens to him and wants him to compromise _him_. He swallows. “I, uh. Need your help.”

There’s a beat.

Changmin slaps a hand into the center of the counter and seems to put his full weight on top of it.

Yunho has a rather out of place thought that that can’t be very good for him because Hapkido and don’t fall on your fucking hands you’ll break your wrists.

“My help?” Changmin’s voice seems to have found another octave.

Yunho rather belatedly realizes how that sounds. “Not with. Not with this,” he says quickly, trying to explain and comfort and failing at both because Changmin is leaning even more solidly against the counter.

Although he might just be hiding his erection.

Yunho very pointedly digs his nails into his own palms because that’s just a biological response and says nothing about Changmin’s opinions or feelings at all.

“I need… something,” Yunho says finally, when it becomes clear that Changmin’s not going to say anything else at all.

“Something.” Changmin’s voice has gone down a few notes, but it definitely could go right back up with very minimal prodding.

“Something,” Yunho agrees. “I’m… empty.”

There’s another beat.

Changmin makes a noise that sounds awfully close to sobbing. “Right.” His voice is even higher. “Don’t. Don’t move.”

And then he’s reaching out to close his laptop, darting nervous looks all around the kitchen and not at Yunho, before stumbling back towards his bedroom in a rush.

Yunho stands in the middle of the kitchen for all of three seconds, heart racing, before growling, shaking his head, and striding angrily back towards Changmin’s bedroom.

“Yah, Shim Changmin, don’t tell me what to do,” he starts to bark, but Changmin just finishes shoving himself into a sweatshirt and grabbing what seems to be his wallet and keys.

“Don’t move!” he says again, picking up a beanie and shoving it down over his ears. “Don’t fucking move, I’ll be right back.”

He grabs his phone off the bed and goes vaulting out of his room and into the hallway, passing by Yunho so quickly that Yunho almost doesn’t notice they nearly touch, and leaving a haze of aroused, confused pheromones in his wake.

The door to the dorm slams shut moments later, and Yunho blinks.

He pads back over to his own room, pull out his own phone, and opens a text message to Hojoon-hyung.

 _Hojoon-hyung_ , he types with minimal spelling errors. _I think Changminnie’s going to get me a prostitute_. He pauses. _I’m in heat_ , he adds by way of explanation, and then, feeling bad. _Sorry, is that too much information?_

Hojoon-hyung doesn’t respond.

\--

Changmin comes back what seems like hours but is probably only minutes later, holding a convenience store shopping bag and angrily texting on his phone.

Yunho listened to him grumble to himself outside the dorm door for a few moments before pulling on the same disgusting pair of sweatpants so that he could poke his head out of his room and watch Changmin come back inside the apartment, and so he get so he gets a perfect play by play of Changmin scowling into his phone, slamming the bag down on the counter, and then striding across the room towards where they keep their pots and pans.

Yunho watches with baited, mildly confused breath, still half waiting for the other shoe to drop and for whomever Changmin’s got him to help him to come waltzing through the door.

Instead, Changmin pulls out the pot they use to make ramen and sticks it under the sink, before making his way back over towards his bag and pulling out what Yunho’s brain rather helpfully points out appears to be a giant purple dildo.

It’s got sparkles on it.

There’s a knot at the base.

Yunho stares at it with his mouth open and his heart racing.

Changmin seems to be staring down at it with equal amounts of horror. “What the fuck?” he seems to say to himself, but that makes no sense, since clearly he’s the one who went and bought it for Yunho in the first place.

Because that’s what it’s for.

It must be, given the knot.

At the sink, the pot overflows.

Changmin swears profusely for a few moments before setting the dildo down on top of the plastic bag he used to transport it home. He walks back over to the sink. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he says.

Yunho’s knees buckle little in response and his eyes flutter closed.

When he tunes back in, Changmin has turned the sink off and picked up the pot, still muttering under his breath but inaudibly now. He levels the water down so it’s not going to spill on his way towards wherever, and then walks it over to the oven.

Yunho watches him bring the water to boil with an almost morbid fascination, then watches him dunk the dildo into said boiling water with definitely post-mortem fascination, and then finally, stands before Changmin ten minutes later staring down at the purple monstrosity trying not to have a panic attack.

“Hyung.” Changmin won’t meet Yunho’s eyes. “Here.” He holds out his hand.

Yunho stares down at the dildo.

Changmin stares off into space.

‘ _Take the dildo_ ,’ Yunho’s thinking mind says.

“Why would I have this when I could have you?” Yunho’s traitor mouth says.

“Oh my God,” Changmin says.

“Oh my God,” Yunho agrees, but takes the dildo.

They’re never going to be able to look each other in the eye again.

\--

Yunho doesn’t remember day three.

Day two passes much the same as day one, only Yunho does eventually determine the dildo is better than fingers, and Changmin does eventually go out and leave him (for drama filming, Yunho’s brain tries valiantly to point out. He’s doing his job filming his drama; he isn’t fucking _abandoning_ Yunho; smashing all of his things in the apartment is over _reacting_ ), all the while looking about two seconds from a nervous breakdown. They try to eat dinner, then fail to eat dinner, and Yunho manages two water bottles before he’s practically climbing the walls.

On day three, he ends up trying to put the dildo onto the stove again (and failing; Changmin gave him this; what if he needs it again; he can just fucking carry it in fucking case) feeling very miserable and sorry for himself and then goes to throw himself down onto Changmin’s bed in a huff.

He aches all over, his skin feels like it’s on fire, and it won’t fucking _stop_ no matter how many orgasms or pseudo knots he forces himself through.

All he really remembers of Changmin coming home is the younger boy standing in front of him calling his name, cool fingers carding through his hair like they couldn’t help themselves, and then the surprisingly soothing sounds of Changmin swearing into a phone.

Then Yunho was waking up significantly more composed in a hotel room with Lee Donghae, who immediately set upon him with a washcloth and several bottles of water.

Yunho drinks them all down somewhat desperately and tries not to cry for how good it feels to no longer be running the world’s worst fever.

“You and Changmin are fucking idiots,” Donghae says, voice harsh in counter to how gently he’s brushing Yunho’s hair out of his eyes. “I can’t believe Manager-hyung even let Changmin stay with you.”

“Somebody had to watch me,” Yunho says around the water bottle. “I could’ve died.”

“You could’ve died if it hadn’t broken,” corrects Donghae, pulling the water bottle away from Yunho before he can inhale it. “Careful.”

Yunho takes grateful, needy breaths of air. “It’s broken now.”

“Yeah.” Donghae sits back on his haunches. “But that’s only because I got you out of there, and Changmin isn’t here.”

“You mean an alpha,” Yunho says. He’s starting to feel like he can produce logical thought for the first time in three days. “It’s only because there are no alphas here.”

Donghae has an odd look on his face, but he nods. “Right.”

Yunho sighs and reaches up to shove a hand of his own through his hair. It’s damp and in complete disarray; his t-shirt is sticking to him in all sorts of unpleasant crevices and he seems to still be in the sweatpants from the prior two days, only this time, Yunho is actually able to devote waking energy to being disgusted by that.

He stomach itches.

The back of his thighs are sticky.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Yunho decides.

Donghae seems to figure something out and stands before Yunho does. “You really should,” he agrees, wrinkling his nose. “You make me want to take an extra dose just in case.”

Yunho finds the energy to laugh. “Sorry,” he says.

“Mmm.” Donghae reaches a hand out to help haul Yunho to his feet. “You don’t mean that.”

Yunho blinks.

Donghae cocks his head over towards the hotel bed, and Yunho follows his gaze with growing horror when he realizes what he’s looking at. He’d almost forgotten that the thing he’d been shoving up his ass for the past three days was purple and covered in glitter. Looking at it lying across the hotel pillow, that’s really all Yunho can think about.

“You practically tried to gnaw Changminnie’s hand off when he tried to take it from you,” Donghae explains, and he’s fully aware Yunho is leaving this earth out of sheer embarrassment, but he gives absolutely no fucks because he’s the worst person on said planet. “Kept shouting about how if he was going to be a fucking fuckhead and give you this cheap, silicone knockoff, the least he could do was let you keep the damn thing.” Donghae’s eyes twinkle. “And then you copped a feel…”

Yunho makes a pained whimpering noise.

“… And Changminnie took off like a bat out of hell, and I brought you--” He nods back towards the dildo because he’s an asshole, “--and your friend to this hotel room.”

Yunho pulls his hand back from Donghae and starts hobbling quickly towards the bathroom.

“I may need therapy,” Donghae says happily. “Do you think we should name it? I think we should name it. Let’s call it Kyungtae.” He giggles. “Sounds like pervert.”

“I fucking hate you,” Yunho says emphatically, and pushes open the bathroom door.

“It’s only been another day,” Donghae calls after him, unfazed. “Not that you guys have schedules, but you haven’t missed much. I mean, I have to go to the airport after this for _Super Show 2_ , and Heechul-hyung might actually kill himself laughing when he gets a whiff, but…” Donghae shrugs. “You didn’t miss anything important.”

Thank God for that, Yunho thinks, and goes to stick his head under the iciest shower he can manage.

\--

“Let’s never speak about this ever again,” he tells Changmin when he gets back to the dorm.

Both of their rooms seem significantly cleaner and appear to have significantly newer bedding.

The kitchen seems spotless.

Changmin might have even gotten the carpets laundered.

Yunho manages a smile.

“Right,” Changmin agrees. “We’ve got bigger things to focus on, anyway.”

And they do, it turns out, because even though SM hasn’t done more than sue JYJ and put TVXQ on hiatus, Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim still calls them into his office to discuss what they want to do going forward several months later.

“What do you think about adding new members?” he says.

“Absolutely not,” Yunho and Changmin both say at the same time, polite, but to the point.

“Alright,” says Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim. “We’ll try the two of you at SM Town in August.”

Yunho exchanges a look with Changmin, and smiles.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, my favorite character is the dildo.
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/171602907415/title-my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/971145834174828545)
> 
> There is now a Changmin POV version of this chapter, which can be found here: [Interlude: ash](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14575188).


	7. flicker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Total chapter number has been changed to reflect the fact that things are taking their sweet time/working out in an order I'm not entirely sold on. Subject to change. Not even sorry.
> 
> Betaed by Hexmen and Kinah. All other mistakes are my own.

**7\. Flicker**

\--

Everything about their comeback is awkward at the start, which is justifiable, explainable, and unacceptable all rolled into one.

Justifiable, because they’ve never been on a stage with just back up dancers. Explainable, because it’s a wonder they even survived having to hang all over each other for the album cover shoot. And unacceptable, because the day before their first official music program, Junsu breaks his silence in the most public of ways.

The company converges around them with efficiency only a common enemy can produce, but Yunho and Changmin still get called into SM for an emergency meeting regarding the united front they’re supposed to be presenting.

“It won’t do for the two of you to be particularly aggressive with each other,” a beta suit says, voice straightforward and to the point.

Yunho has the mildly irrational urge to bare his teeth at him.

“Our choreography involves fighting,” Changmin says through his teeth, clearly in the same place.

“Play fighting,” says the suit. He’s entirely unbothered by the stink Changmin is throwing off, both in his refusal to sit politely for this entire conversation--he has both legs sprawled and disrespectful, perpetual scowl--and in the air, when he shifts, and the movement blows it straight into Yunho’s face.

The roof of his mouth aches.

He knocks a leg up against Changmin’s without pause and Changmin startles into much less disarray instantly. It’s obviously a reflexive movement, because the pheromones he’s giving off only increase in displeasure. Only now there’s guilt mixed in there too, making Changmin’s alpha manager shift uncomfortably in the background.

Yunho wonders if he can blame it on all the late-night practices and the near decade they’ve spent living together and not focus on the fact that he’s only been sensitive to Changmin’s particular pheromone footprint, as were, since the heat.

His doctors had assured him that it was more likely that because this had been his first true heat, his body had simply finished maturing to accommodate for his presentation. They’d had Yunho tested again, knocked his score up a full two points, and left him with a nagging headache and the insistence that he would get used to it in no time.

The first thing Yunho had wanted to do was call Jaejoong, and then he’d stared down the barrel of his 2011 schedule and told himself that it didn’t matter what he’d lost, or who he’d no longer be able to go to about things like pheromones or missing home or wanting to try a particular recipe.

The comeback was the only thing that mattered.

And besides. He could use this to his advantage, and to avoid getting into screaming arguments with Changmin.

Like now.

Yunho pulls his leg away from Changmin’s and tries out a winning smile.

The SM higher-up in front of him looks mildly taken aback, but also pleasantly surprised.

Yunho feels his smile dim automatically.

At his side, Changmin’s spine straightens ever so slightly.

The man seems to collect himself. “Regardless,” he says. “After today’s fiasco, we can’t afford to show any weakness.”

Yunho forces himself to ignore Changmin. “We’re fine,” he says. “I mean, that’s fine, because Changmin and I are fine.”

Changmin and he haven’t been able to have a normal conversation about anything other than the comeback because Changmin and him both know that Yunho now has a box of sex toys under his bed, and what Yunho sounds like with two fingers up his ass.

He bites his tongue and smiles again.

“We’re getting along fine,” Yunho says.

Just the other day, Changmin nearly fell in the bathroom because Yunho had left water everywhere, and two manager-hyungs had to be called to prevent bloodshed.

One of the manager-hyungs in question raises a dubious eyebrow.

Yunho ignores him. “We’re _ready_ for tomorrow,” he amends.

“Right.” The man in front of him looks utterly non-convinced.

“I don’t know why you’re punishing us,” Changmin mutters.

Yunho steps on his foot, not at all gently. “What Changmin means is we’re willing to do whatever we need to do to help assure the fans that we’re devoted to this comeback,” he says.

Changmin shoots him an ugly look, then smiles. “Yes,” his says through his teeth. “What Yunho-hyung says.”

That seems to appease the men in front of them. “Good,” one of them says, stepping forward a little so that Yunho’s attention catches on the glint of the pen in his breast pocket. “Because you’re going to have to talk about it eventually.”

Changmin’s lips pull out into another one of those ugly, unhappy smiles. “Of course,” he says.

Yunho wants to nudge him again, but he knows better. He settles for smiling as well. He hopes his comes across more genuine. He knows otherwise. “That’s fine,” he says.

They all-kill on the music programs and survive the ensuing drama about the nature of the song’s lyrics with overdone smiles and barely glancing interviews.

\--

In February, they make a pact never to celebrate each other’s birthdays. They were never particularly sentimental as a group, but now that there are only two of them, and now that TVXQ are only February children, it doesn’t make sense.

“Besides,” Changmin says around a mouthful of takeout, scarfing down their incredibly late four-in-the-morning dinner from his place on the practice room floor. “We’ve known each other for so long that it doesn’t make sense. What am I going to get you? You’re like family.”

Yunho thinks of the painstaking way Changmin picked out gifts for his sisters last year and says nothing.

Towards the end of the month they do an interview with Kang Hodong where they expressly have to talk about the lawsuit. It’s their second variety show of the comeback, and far more intimate than _Strong Heart_ had been.

On _Strong Heart_ there had been tons of other celebrities to act as buffers, and Hyukjae and Jungsoo-hyung and Donghee-hyung had been both comic relief and silent support.

Even if it had been scripted, Yunho had had fun at his own expense, and afterwards Girl’s Day Minah had shyly asked for an autograph.

Contrastly, _Knee Drop Guru_ is a purposefully closed set and two hosts.

Hodong-hyung carries Yunho onto the set to ease the tension, and Yunho laughs it off and tries not to notice that Changmin’s insistence on sitting down is both comedic banter and to hide the automatic clench of his fingers when Hodong-hyung so much as touched Yunho.

Yunho hates it, but he’s not mad at Changmin.

It’s not Changmin’s fault.

It’s late February, and Seoul is still very much in winter, but these are extenuating circumstances and SM isn’t taking any chances. Already there’s been discussions about how it’ll be suppressants for both Yunho and Changmin because being out of commission for even a day is out of the question.

“I had no idea until it was happening,” Yunho says, once they’ve finished talking about his rags to riches entrance into the company. “Neither did Changmin.” The words taste awful coming out, but maybe that’s just because of the overwhelming swell of discomfort on set. “The worst thing was what they said about our families,” Yunho pushes on.

Hodong-hyung nods, serious.

Changmin is a silent but comforting presence at Yunho’s side.

In April and May they meet outside the bathroom to take their suppressants, avoid eye contact and wear facemasks in and out of Tokyo for tour preparation and album meetings.

Yunho doesn’t go into heat.

Changmin doesn’t go into rut.

Neither of them talk about it.

In June, they go to Spain for the first time, and even if they start the trip in Paris and the memories are heady and distressing, the newness of the experience is enough to leave Yunho feeling weightless in a way he hasn’t before.

And then in July, with barely three days until they’re due to fly to Tokyo for _Music Bank_ , it all falls apart in the worst of ways.

They’re practicing choreography well after midnight and their dancers have gone home because contrary to what variety Changmin would say, Yunho isn’t a slave driver.

Also, after midnight not even Hyoje is decent about the fact that Changmin gets mildly possessive and Yunho gives him hell for it.

The argument starts off silly.

Changmin misses a step and Yunho stops the entire performance with a barely concealed scowl. “Changmin-ah,” he says, voice sharp and exhaustion showing. “You’re off count _again_.”

Changmin glowers back at him, flicking sweaty hair out of his eyes and then scowling up at his own bangs, batting at the strands angrily. “Fuck this,” he says, which isn’t fuck you, but Yunho hears it loud and clear anyway. “Fuck this hair.”

“It could have been longer,” Yunho says, because it could have been. They’ve both had hair long enough for ponytails, and the fans loved it. “You’re lucky--”

“Yes, I’m lucky that they only want my hair long enough that it’s easier for everyone to imagine you pulling it, Hyung, thanks,” Changmin snaps, and stops yanking on his bangs so that he can stride angrily over to where they’ve left their water bottles by the mirror.

Yunho stares after him, tension creeping high in his shoulders. It only makes him angrier, because if he’s tense, he’s going to fuck up the frankly complicated step moves they have to do for ‘Maximum.’ “Changmin-ah,” he growls.

Changmin uncaps what Yunho knows is his water bottle and swallows down two gulpfulls messily, spilling and dripping all down his throat. “What?”

The insolence makes Yunho’s hackles rise. “That’s mine,” he says, and comes to stand in front of Changmin.

Changmin’s eyes flicker down to the water bottle, then back up to Yunho’s face. He takes a long, sloppy sip.

Yunho’s eyes narrow. “Have you been body-snatched?” he says, grabbing hold of the bottle.

Changmin holds tight but lets Yunho pull the thing away from his lips with less of a fight. Clearly, he doesn’t want to drench himself nor ruin the dance floor too much. “Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?” he says sharply.

Yunho rolls his eyes. “I’m not the one with an irrational fear of my saliva,” he says.

Changmin’s nostrils flare.

Yunho steps in closer. “I didn’t say we could take a break.”

Changmin lets go of the water bottle almost aggressively and laughs. “You didn’t say we could take a break,” he says. “Since when are you the God of dance practice?”

Yunho could make a joke about that, like a good leader should, or he could be a dick about it.

Yunho is too tired to be good.

“Since 1999,” he says. “When you were too busy playing Badminton.”

Changmin shakes his head, spraying sweat like some sort of disgusting sprinkler system.

Yunho’s nose wrinkles involuntarily.

Changmin’s eyes glint. “What?” he says, and stalks forward.

Yunho has the foresight to reach out for the water bottle cap.

Changmin cedes it with a minor pause, eyes downcast to watch the bit of plastic change hands. The air feels charged, different suddenly, and Yunho is hit with the sudden and animalistic urge to pull his lips back and inhale.

There’s a word for that as well, German and starting with an ‘f’, and Yunho can’t think about it without thinking about cats and heat and the things he and Changmin will never ever be talking about thank you very much.

He scowls and puts the lid on the bottle.

“At least I don’t have an irrational fear of my own perspiration,” Changmin says, and his words are still harsh but his voice has dropped several octaves and Yunho feels himself swaying closer before he can help himself.

It makes his hands shake and has him stumbling away from Changmin in search of his bag and his pills, the water bottle still clutched in his hands.

It reminds him of Jaejoong.

Yunho’s teeth set on edge.

Changmin is watching him with an odd look on his face. “Yunho-hyung,” he says.

“Whatever,” Yunho says, uncapping the bottle with shaking hands so that he can down the pill. “I haven’t had any this week.”

It’s true--he hasn’t, because he’d been busy and it was basically summer and what was the point of calling spring heat season if people went around going into it other times of year. Yunho’s sister and her September birthday not-withstanding.

By the time Yunho is done, Changmin looks less pissed off. He rolls his head back. “It’s almost sunrise,” he says. “You have skating tomorrow.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Yunho says, and that’s mean and unnecessary but he still feels like a coiled spring. Changmin could blink or smile or clap him on the shoulder like the old days, and Yunho knows in his gut that he’d do something stupid like kiss him.

It makes him mean.

Changmin’s eyes shutter closed. “Just because you’re the leader doesn’t mean you have to be a dick,” he says.

Yunho turns to look at him, both hands clenched into fists. “Just because I’m the leader,” he says. “That’s the entire point of a leader, Changmin-ah.”

Changmin’s nostrils flare and the air around him goes right back to being pissed. “Really,” he says, voice deadly and ugly and everything Yunho shouldn’t want to deal with at near five in the morning.

“Really,” Yunho says, winding him up anyway. His skin feels itchy.

“There are only two of us, Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says. “What even is the _point_ of us if all I am to you is a subordinate to follow _orders_ \--”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you _know_ it,” Yunho snaps, stepping even closer. He still has the irrational urge to kiss Changmin, but it’s rapidly fading under the much more gratifying thought of punching him in his stupidly perfect jaw.

Changmin scoffs. “Oh, isn’t it,” he says. “You’ve been introducing yourself as TVXQ’s leader since the New Year.”

“That’s because I am!” Yunho shouts back, and he’s not proud of it, but he’s the first to start shouting. His head hurts, his ears are ringing, and he feels rather like he’s having some sort of out of body experience.

Changmin looks like he wants to laugh. “Right,” he says. He nods once, then bows, a mockery of respect. “See you around, then, Leader-ssi,” he says. “Don’t stay up too late; you have skating tomorrow.”

Yunho digs nails into both palms. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he says.

Changmin doesn’t look at him, bending to collect his bag and his plain shoes.

“Shim Changmin!” Yunho says. His heart is racing and he feels ready to run a marathon and Changmin isn’t looking at him and every inch of him _rankles_.  “Just because you’re an alpha doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do--” Yunho spits out, the words awful and unnecessary and coming from somewhere deep and ugly in the pit of him but he can’t stop himself.

Changmin’s head comes up before Yunho’s finished speaking. He drops his bag in a heartbeat, has crossed to snarl into Yunho’s face in another, and finally it’s like he’s _looking_ at him. “Just because you’re _not_ ,” he says, voice deadly calm. “Doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole.”

Yunho’s lungs feel like they’ve stopped working. “Changdol-ah,” he says.

Changmin turns away from him, unimpressed and done.

“Changdol-ah.” Yunho feels his voice break but doesn’t stop. “Wait. I’m sorry--Changmin--Changdol-ah!”

And it’s an accident, because the floor is wet from Changmin’s sweat and his terrible water drinking habits and so Yunho trips and then Changmin trips and then there’s a collision and more stumbling and then the sickening slam of Changmin hitting the ground, before Yunho can.

Yunho rolls himself to avoid injury, heart pounding, and manages to keep from darting any limbs out to break his fall with all the practice of someone who’s won Hapkido competitions.

Changmin, unfortunately, is not as lucky.

“Ow,” he says, after a moment, one hand clutched awkwardly towards the center of his chest, and glaring up at the ceiling of the practice building with his chest rising and falling awkwardly.

Yunho sits up to face him with guilt seeping out of what feels like every pore.

Changmin’s nose wrinkles. “Gross, Hyung,” he says. He pulls himself up with a long groan, right wrist still cradled to his chest, but seemingly no less worse for wear otherwise. “I’m already lying in who knows what.”

“Your own saliva,” Yunho says, under his breath, and then, before he can help himself: “Lucky you don’t have an irrational fear of it.”

Changmin’s eyes crinkle a little at the corners and he grins. “Hyung,” he says.

Yunho tries out his own smile, then frowns. “Changminnie.”

Changmin groans again. “Stop that,” he says. “If I have to spend my morning in the hospital the least you can do is try harder not to smell sorry for yourself.”

Yunho really can’t help it. “Changmin-ah,” he says.

Changmin manages to stand with only his left hand, and Yunho follows suit when it becomes clear that Changmin isn’t going to say anything.

“Changmin,” Yunho says again, feeling like a broken record.

Changmin keeps ignoring him, lips pulled to one side, and he gives his hand an exploratory flex.

He winces immediately, and Yunho’s moving before he can finish breathing in the younger man’s pain.

It’s instinct and automatic and ends with the two of them awkwardly standing in the middle of the practice room, both of them holding gently onto Changmin’s right wrist, barely breathing.

“I’m sorry,” Yunho says, not looking at Changmin, and instead trying to figure out if he should do something more than just hold onto Changmin’s clearly sprained wrist. “Is it broken?”

Changmin lets out a long gust of a breath, before very gently extricating his hand. “I don’t think so,” he says.

Yunho frowns.

Changmin gives his fingers another flex, and winces. “I really hope not.”

Yunho frowns even harder.

“I’ll call Manager-hyung,” says Changmin.

Yunho looks down at the ground for a while longer, listening with half an ear as Changmin dials and smiles his way through what even Yunho can hear is not a fun conversation.

Jooyoung-hyung sounds about as unimpressed as you can be about having been phoned at four a.m. because one of his charges has somehow managed to hurt a wrist three days before an out of country, company-wide performance.

“It’s probably not a big deal,” Changmin says, and then listens to Jooyoung shout at him some more. “I fell.”

Yunho’s head comes up, not expecting that, and he meets Changmin’s eyes in the wall of mirrors.

His younger bandmate has a serious look on his face, but his lips twitch a little when he catches Yunho looking.

Yunho’s heart starts pounding for a completely different reason all of a sudden. He blinks.

Changmin doesn’t offer Jooyoung-hyung any other sort of platitudes. “It was just a little fall,” he says. “But I fell directly on my hands.”

“I told you not to fall with your hands out,” Yunho says, raising his voice so that Jooyoung-hyung can hear.

Changmin’s grin grows but he very quickly schools his features into perfect innocence. “Yes, Hyung,” he says, and then hangs up.

For a moment, he and Yunho just stare at each other in the mirror, frozen.

Then Changmin turns. “He’s sending a car for us,” he says. “I have to go the hospital.”

“I’m coming,” Yunho says before Changmin can continue, and then, wincing. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be controlling I just mean--” He breaks off, rubbing at the back of his neck, nervously trying to find the words.

Changmin doesn’t seem mad anymore, but Yunho just wants to make sure. Things had been good. There’d been some moments the front half of the year when he actually thought Changmin was going to knock him over in the fight sequence, and then the fans had noticed he was getting actual scratches, but just the other day Changmin had gotten caught on Yunho’s zipper during rehearsal and fucking laughed about it.

Yunho doesn’t want to lose that. “Cause it’s my fault.”

Changmin crosses over to him carrying both their bags even with his injured hand. “It’s fine, Hyung,” he says. “And don’t get a big head. I’m perfectly capable of falling and hurting myself because of my own clumsiness.”

Yunho blinks, then smiles. “Right,” he says. “That’s what you get for drinking like a…” He trails off, cheeks flushing, and hurriedly takes his bag from Changmin so that he can head for the door.

Changmin practically bounces after him, eye twinkling now. “Like a what?” he says, even he knows. “Like a heathen who drinks out of the bottle directly?”

“Most people don’t require straws, Changdol-ah,” Yunho says, nose in the air even though he can taste Changmin’s bemusement as clearly as the other man can breathe in Yunho’s own embarrassment. “And most of the world aren’t heathens, so.”

Changmin just chuckles, amused, and skips ahead of Yunho to meet Jooyoung-hyung in the parking lot.

\--

Luckily, it really isn’t a break.

Changmin comes out with an odd expression on his face, nods along to the care instructions for the soft cast they’re sending him home with, and takes the telling off from Jooyoung-hyung with only mild amusement.

Yunho falls into step with the two of them somewhere in the middle of Jooyoung-hyung fretting about _Music Japan_ , and bumps Changmin in the shoulder before he can help it. “You okay?”

Changmin’s lips pull, face still a little off, but then he seems to visibly brighten in a way that makes Yunho’s teeth hurt. “Yep.” He even sounds like sunshine. “Although I kind of wish I had broken it.” He pauses to thump Jooyoung-hyung on the back a few times with his good hand. “It’s kind of lame to just sprain your wrist falling.” More pounding. “Like. I was telling Kyuline and they laughed at me.”

Yunho blinks a few times. “I laughed at you,” he says, because he had, in the waiting room once the shock of it fully wore off he and realized that absurdly enough Changmin had somehow managed to end up hospitalized for tripping in a puddle.

Changmin snorts. “I should have punched you,” he says. “At least if I’d punched you I could say I didn’t want to break your nose so close to a concert.”

Jooyoung-hyung starts coughing again, and Yunho shoots him a worried look, before stepping in close to help Changmin with the patting.

“I’m glad that my well being means that much to you, Changdol-ah,” he says wryly.

Changmin shrugs. “What can I say. I’m a pragmatist. It wouldn’t do for TVXQ to only have _one_ visual--”

Yunho swipes at him halfheartedly, eyes rolling.

Changmin dodges, good hand slapping to his chest. “Yah, Hyung,” he says. “Careful. I’m a wounded man.”

“Yeah, okay,” Yunho says loudly, shaking his head, and lets Jooyoung-hyung herd them inconspicuously inside their van.

\--

They get swept up in schedules and their Japanese comeback and A-Nation by themselves and it takes Yunho a full month to finally bring it up again, in the car on their way to the venue in Osaka with their hair already styled to perfection and moisturizer giving their skin healthy glows.

“Changmin, you know I don’t think I’m better than you?” Yunho asks, not entirely sure how to go about mentioning it.

Changmin doesn’t look up from his phone, brows pulled together and mouth frowning. “Mm?” He doesn’t sound like he’s listening.

Yunho opens his mouth, not quite sure how to phrase this. “What you said before,” he decides. “When you broke your wrist.”

“Sprained it,” Changmin replies instantly, typing away into his phone. “Barely even sprained, even.”

“Yeah,” Yunho says. “But what you said. About me treating you like you were less than me because you weren’t the leader.”

“I’m not mad, Hyung,” Changmin says, but he still sounds like he’s distracted. “It’s not a big deal.”

Yunho purses his lips. It had been a big deal. He wants it to have been a big deal. He thinks they need to talk about this. He opens his mouth.

Changmin barks out a laugh suddenly, startling Yunho silent before he can speak. Then he leans over and thrusts his phone in Yunho’s face. “Look at this,” he says, brandishing KakaoTalk. “Kyuhyunnie’s an idiot.”

Yunho blinks, dazed, and barely has time to read what seems like some pretty song-worthy poetry from who Changmin has in his phone as Cho Drunkard.

His own phone buzzes his lap.

Changmin has gone back to typing. “Check that,” he says. “It might be Donghae-hyung, and you need to tell him congrats.”

Yunho turns over his phone, still a little dazed. “Wha--”

It is in fact Donghae, sounding more than a little panicked, and Yunho has to think very hard to parse him through his accent.

 _Yunho-hyung I think I broke Suju_ , seems to be the gist of it. And also, _Hyukjae looks so sad_.

Yunho opens and closes his mouth a few times. “What?”

Changmin is still typing into his own phone, but he cackles briefly. “Kyu poured water on Teukie-hyung and Teukie-hyung disciplined Hyukjae-hyung,” he says. “And now nobody is talking to anybody and it’s hilarious.”

Yunho blinks.

“Kyu’s locked himself on the roof to stare at the sky in pain,” Changmin adds, smiling now. “Idiot.”

Yunho opens and closes his mouth a few more times. “I see,” he says.

Manager-san knocks on the window.

Changmin pockets his phone. “We’re here,” he says brightly, and is the first out the door.

Yunho stares after him frowning.

His phone buzzes.

 _I tried to talk to Hyukjae and all he did was sigh at me_ , Donghae has added.

Yunho unlocks his phone. _At least Hyukjae acknowledges you_ , he says, and then stuffs it into his bag.

\--

Changmin doesn’t bring it up until a full two weeks later, in the worst way when Yunho is halfway to sleeping on the plane right back to Korea after SM Town in Tokyo. Between A-Nation and the two music videos and calendar they had scheduled throughout July and August, Yunho is exhausted, and barely awake when the pilot starts announcing the weather and time in Seoul.

Changmin is unfairly alert beside him, pulling out his carry on and straightening his long coat. “Hyung,” he says. “I know you know I’m your equal.” And then he finishes fussing with his lapel and is on his way alongside Manager-hyung, sneakers soundless as he makes his way down the aisle.

Yunho blinks, dazed and half hearing, and pulls his facemask over his mouth to mask his irritation. “What?” he says. “Wait. What?”

But he can’t say anything about it, has to grab his own carry on and locate his own manager and stay above the flow of fans and weary travelers alike in the sea that is Gimpo airport. Changmin has his sunglasses and his model stride on and Yunho follows after him in a daze, mouth parted behind the safety of his surgical mask and heart pounding in his chest.

He feels rather like someone’s doused him with ice water, and like he’d like to knock Changmin’s perfect teeth in.

He feels like he _loves_ the man.

Like he’s _in love_ with him. All of him, even if he’s stubborn and sarcastic and lets Yunho do all the talking and can’t seem to stop sniping at him for water bottles or toothpaste tubes or how Yunho takes his showers.

He feels like his body has known this since April 2006, but it took his mind five damn years to catch up with it.

He also feels like he needs to walk faster, or he’ll get left behind.

So there’s no time for talking, even when they stop to pick up their luggage or detour to the bathroom so Manager-hyung can refill their water bottles. Yunho isn’t too worried, since Yunho can just talk to Changmin when they reach the car, only, once they grab their luggage and go through arrivals, Changmin takes his own car to who knows where, and Yunho goes home to the dorm to find out he’s gone out with Kyuline by way of Twitter.

It makes his temples ache a little, and immediately he calls up Donghae, and by proxy, Hyukjae.

Normally he’d call upon Heechul-hyung as a buffer, but Heechul-hyung is busy serving his country, so Yunho is left to play awkward third wheel.

It’s gotten better since last spring, because now Yunho doesn’t have to feel jealous or awkward about the ease with which Donghae conducts himself. But it’s still incredibly sobering and aging, since it makes Yunho feel like he’s turned into his mother or something, going out to hang out with her married friends while his father worked nine to five.

“Is Changminnie your father in this metaphor?” says Hyukjae, pouring Yunho a tiny shot of soju and then immediately standing so that he can put it away.

Yunho accepts that. The last time he was at the dorm drinking had not ended particularly well, and he still feels guilty whenever he has to look at the sofa.

“Clearly,” says Donghae, answering Hyukjae without a shred of guilt. “He’s even an alpha and everything.”

“Changmin is absolutely nothing like my father,” Yunho says, downing the shot. “And also, no.”

Hyukjae comes back into the living room sans bottle. “Uh huh,” he says. “You really should have been a lawyer, Yunho-hyung. Utterly convincing.”

Yunho rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he says.

Hyukjae mimes zipping his lips, and then sinks back down onto the couch next to Donghae. Automatically they fit, and Yunho’s heart gives an unfortunate twinge.

He glowers down at the empty glass in his hand.

“Hey.” Donghae’s voice startles Yunho out of his thoughts. “Yunho-hyung. What gives?”

Yunho lifts his head. “Donghae-yah,” he says slowly. He glances at Hyukjae. “Hyukjae-yah.”

The two of them stare back at him.

“I think I’m in love with Changminnie.”

There’s a beat.

Yunho waits for the world to start caving in on itself.

It doesn’t.

Donghae stares at him. “Am I supposed to be surprised?” he says slowly. “Do you want me to clap?”

Yunho narrows his eyes. “Why are you so calm?”

“Because we’ve known for ages,” Hyukjae says, sounding like he’d quite like to have popcorn or something. Like this is a movie.

Yunho would love it if it were, because then he could hit pause and just walk away.

“Yah,” he says.

“Yunho-hyung.” Donghae reaches across their coffee table to take Yunho’s cheeks in both hands. “Do you remember what happened last April?”

Yunho feels heat flood his cheeks before he can stop himself, and he tries to pull away.

Donghae is relentless.

“Nothing.” Yunho refuses to meet his eyes. “Changminnie and I had Taxi filming and then we were in Japan for Sky Perfect TV.”

Donghae’s grip on his cheeks somehow goes sharper.

“And the year before that you know what happened,” Yunho says in a rush, staring off into space. “You were there.”

Donghae gives his cheeks one last squeeze, before releasing. “Right,” he says. “And you weren’t in your right mind.”

“I was too,” Yunho mutters, because he might have been horny to the extreme, but he wasn’t a mindless idiot.

“Sure,” Donghae concedes, waving his hand, but shooting Yunho a shrewd, knowing look before Yunho can protest.

It’s sobering, because Donghae knows. He may be mated, but he knows, and he’s been fighting the hard fight about it silently like the rest of them.

Yunho bites back his protestations.

“Regardless, you weren’t exactly about to be accepted into KAIST,” Donghae says. “But what you were, was incredibly disappointed that all Changminnie had to offer you was that sparkly, purple--”

“Okay!” Yunho raises his voice, blushing some more. “I think we get the idea!”

Hyukjae is looking between the two of them with baited breath. “No, we don’t,” he says. “Sparkly purple what now?”

“Nothing,” Yunho says, at the same time Donghae, that asshole, grins.

“Dildo,” his friend says. He has the decency to look mildly sorry, and clearly from the way Hyukjae is braying with laughter he’d kept it to himself for the past two years, but Yunho still needs newer better best friends.

“I should have called Hojoon-hyung,” says Yunho.

Donghae snorts. “Hojoon-hyung is a beta,” he says dismissively. “He wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re not exactly winning any friendship points,” Yunho says dryly. He shifts a little around on Super Junior’s floor so that his ass isn’t digging into the floorboards.

Donghae grins back at him like a giant Labrador. “Whatever.”

Yunho can’t help but grin back. Then he schools his features. “But what does April 2010 have to do with anything?”

Donghae’s head tilts, still looking like a giant Labrador.

“With my… beinginloveiwthChangmin thing,” Yunho says, tumbling his words together in the hopes that by saying them so quickly they won’t make sense and he’ll somehow be able to save face.

Donghae stares back at him, unbothered. “Well, all you wanted was Changminnie,” he says.

Yunho blinks. “Yeah, but Changmin’s an alpha.”

Hyukjae’s mouth opens.

Yunho can feel himself flushing, but he powers on. “I would have wanted any alpha.”

Donghae leans across the table and jabs a finger into the center of Yunho’s chest. “Correct!”

Yunho stares down at the other man’s hand and then frowns. “What?”

“If you weren’t desperately in love with Changminnie, you would have wanted literally anybody else!” Donghae emphasizes each word by stabbing into the groove between Yunho’s pectorals.

Yunho winces. “Ow,” he says, batting Donghae’s hand away and rubbing at his chest. “Stop that.”

Donghae doesn’t seem concerned, nor apologetic. “You didn’t, in case you were wondering.” He shoots Hyukjae a frankly insultingly arrogant glance. “He didn’t. Just wanted Changmin.”

Hyukjae collects Donghae’s still extended hand from the table with his left hand and then reaches around to scratch at the back of his head with his right. “But Changmin was the only alpha there.”

Yunho’s the one pointing now. “Yes.” He pulls his hand back before one of them tries to take it, not at all in the mood for being roped into an impromptu and probably vaguely sexual cuddle. “Changmin was he only alpha there, so your argument is invalid.”

Donghae still doesn’t look fazed. “Yeah, but when I took you to the hotel, Manager-hyung was there,” he says. “He even helped me drag you to the room, and he helped run point when Changmin kept calling and texting like we’d kidnapped you or something.” Donghae sits back on the couch, still holding Hyukjae’s hand, and looks even more pleased with himself. “So there.”

Yunho would rather like to take him down at the knees. “I take it Manager-hyung is an alpha,” he starts to say dryly.

“Manager-hyung is an alpha,” Donghae affirms before Yunho can finish. “Anyway, nobody here is surprised you’re embarrassingly in love with Changminnie.”

Yunho shoots Hyukjae a betrayed look.

“What.” Hyukjae raises his free hand. “We’re practically married.”

And Yunho scowls, dropping both elbows onto the coffee table and trying not to notice how the two of them have linked fucking ankles. “If Changminnie and I are mates, we’re never going to be like that.”

Donghae doesn’t even blink. “If Changminnie and you are mates you’re going to be even _worse_ , Hyung,” he says.  “Now.” He finally releases Hyukjae’s hand and claps both palms together. “What’s the problem?”

Yunho pauses. “Problem?”

“Why you called us here,” Donghae says. “And wanted to raid our liquor cabinet.”

As if on cue, Jungsoo-hyung pokes his head out of his room with narrowed eyes. “Yunho-yah,” he says. “You will not raid our liquor cabinet.”

Yunho lifts his head guiltily but doesn’t stand, even though he really, really wants to.

Jungsoo-hyung seems to pick up on that regardless.

“He’s not, Hyung,” Hyukjae says.

Jungsoo-hyung’s eyes narrow even more. “What are you doing up here?” he says.

“Marrying me,” Donghae says, and then smiles beatifically when Jungsoo-hyung groans.

Another door slides open almost like a summons, and Ryeowook joins Jungsoo-hyung, frowning. “Some of us have early schedules,” says the second-youngest.

Donghae keeps smiling. “Some of us are mates.”

Yunho looks between the lot of them and decides to cut his losses. “I’m just going to go home now,” he says.

Jungsoo-hyung waves a hand, unbothered, and retreats back into his room with only mild, threatening pause.

Ryeowook throws Donghae and Hyukjae one more annoyed look before following suit.

Yunho unfolds his legs from under him. “Right.”

“Hyukjae’s loud,” Donghae says, like an utter asshole, and seems to take great glee at the resounding chorus of pain from his bandmates.

Hyukjae just looks even more annoyingly besotted.

Yunho decides to sit back down just so he doesn’t have to worry about his legs deciding to put him out of his misery and tripping him to his early death. “Wow,” he says.

“Yeah,” Hyukjae says, a little too dreamy for Yunho’s liking. “I mean, so Changmin.”

Yunho really would rather not associate Changmin’s name or Changmin himself with anything his best friends might get up to in the bedroom.

He pulls a face.

Hyukjae has the good graces to look apologetic. “Oops.”

Donghae doesn’t seem to care. “What are you going to do about it?” he asks.

Yunho shifts on the floor. “Uh,” he says.

“Ohhh.” Donghae straightens on the couch, finally shifting away from Hyukjae. He gets to his feet, sinks to his knees on the floor, and meets Yunho’s eyes. “So this is a strategic meeting.”

Yunho doesn’t know what to say to that. On the one hand, it was. On the other hand, the truly garish blond of Hyukjae’s head is starting to give him a headache, and the younger man has eyeliner still around the corners of his eyes, and Yunho’s been fighting the urge to do something about that all evening.

He wonders if this is how Changmin feels every time Yunho so much as goes to bed without more than a simple soap and water scrub to his face.

And then his stomach churns and his heart skips a beat, because, well. Changmin.

Yunho is very, very screwed.

“Look, Yunho-hyung,” Donghae starts to say, but Yunho is already pulling out his phone for an excuse or and escape route.

The time glares back at him with all the subtlety of a toddler, but it’s as good as any. He and Changmin have schedules in New York, anyway. It’ll work. “I have to go,” he says. “Besides, if the reason you knew I was into Changmin was because of April, well. Clearly he’s into me as well.”

Donghae’s mouth opens and closes a few times.

“What?” says Hyukjae.

Yunho stands, pocketing his phone and stretching out the pins and needles in both legs. “You said it yourself,” he says, not looking at either of them. “All I wanted was Changmin, and Changmin kept calling you and texting you to find out where you’d stashed me.” He risks a look forward, making sure he’s got everything. Dorm keys. Wallet. Manager-hyung’s number for a ride.

Donghae’s opened his mouth again. “Yes, but--”

“So, he’s in love with me,” Yunho says, and only stumbles slightly at how saying that out loud makes him feel. He finishes giving himself a pat down and bows, smiling. “Which means I was worried for nothing.”

Hyukjae and Donghae rise seemingly despite themselves, the former following after Yunho as he goes to collect his shoes, and the latter frowning after them both and biting at his lower lip.

Yunho goes to clasp both of them by the arms, still grinning. “Now all I have to do is wait for next heat season and everything will work itself on its own,” he says. “No awkward confessions required.”

Donghae makes a weird noise in the back of his throat. “Uh, Hyung--”

“Good talk,” Yunho says, pleased, exhausted, and pointedly ignoring the way Hyukjae looks about two seconds from bursting into unrestrained laughter. “You really are just like my parents.”

And then he leaves them, grinning, to make his way towards the elevator with the sounds of the two of them shouting after him to take that shit back _right this moment_.

 _I’m coming home_ , he texts into the TVXQ group chat. _What time is our flight again_?

 _Morning_ , Changmin replies instantly, and Yunho’s stomach does another terrible flip. _But I’m flying later_.

He stops in his tracks.

 _Something came up_.

There’s a ringing in Yunho’s ears.

_It was cheaper to book a round trip._

The elevator dings open.

_You understand, right, Hyung?_

Yunho steps into the steel trap, because turning straight around and begging Jungsoo-hyung for the soju bottle would be embarrassing and beneath him and unbecoming of the leader of South Korea’s staple boyband.

 _Of course_ , he texts back.

 _What the fuck?_ he thinks.

The elevator doors slide closed.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ways to my heart ~~and to have input into when I post~~ :  
> 1) comments  
> 2) kudos  
> 3) retweets/reblogs 
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/171844654970/my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you-author) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/973695612624531456)


	8. ignite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this listening to Arms by Christina Perri on repeat and you should all do that too.
> 
> Betaed by Kinah and Hexmen. All other mistakes are my own.

**8\. Ignite**

\--

“Yunho-yah,” says Heechul-hyung-- _Heechul-hyung_!--and Yunho knows he’s fucked up. “What have you done to Lee Donghae?”

Yunho thinks about the truly embarrassing string of KakaoTalk messages he sent the other night with a link to a few fan ripped and subtitled versions of his and Changmin’s most recent appearance on several Japanese variety shows (which they’d filmed in September. It was fucking September. Yunho’s been sitting on this for the entire fucking _week_ it took for the shows to hit their fandom Yunho is a fucking _disgrace_.) and the words ‘ _Donghae-yah. Does this look like flirting to you? Are we flirting?_ ’ attached in explanation, and honestly debates throwing himself out the window.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says instead, darting a nervous look around the dorm for eavesdroppers. “What have you done to Donghae?”

 “Are we flirting,” says Heechul-hyung. “Are we flirting--are we _flirting_ \--Yurobbong.”

If he were anyone else, Yunho would hang up on him. “Have you stolen his phone?”

Heechul-hyung is entirely unfazed. “Donghae can’t come to the phone right now, he’s too busy dying of laughter.”

Now that he points that out, Yunho can totally make out what he’d thought was maybe the television and in hindsight very clearly the sound of Donghae’s braying laughter.

Yunho feels a twitch start somewhere up near his left eye. “Hyung,” he says.

“Are we _flirting_ ,” Heechul-hyung snorts out one more time, and Yunho says fuck decorum and hangs up the phone. Then he tosses it across the room for good measure, careful to aim for their couch so he doesn’t break the thing two days before they’re due to fly to New York for SM Town.

Changmin wanders out of his room seemingly seconds later, bemused. “Wow,” he says, looking towards Yunho’s phone with one raised eyebrow. “Bad call?”

Yunho’s phone starts buzzing threateningly and Yunho is all of a sudden reminded of the fact that of all of his hyungs, Heechul-hyung is the most surprisingly caught up on respect and age-order and ‘did you just speak _down_ to me come here and let me _box_ your ears.’

He winces. “No, I just,” he says, but Changmin has already turned his attention back to his own cellphone, lips pulling to one side in a way that lets Yunho know he’s texting Kyuline.

“I’m going out,” the younger man says, still not looking up, which only further confirms. “Don’t wait up.”

Yunho’s mouth opens, a reply on the tip of his tongue, but then that last bit catches up on him and he pauses, surprised.

Changmin’s neck goes blotchy red immediately but he keeps his shit together with all the practice of eight years of media training. “I mean,” he says, shoving his phone into his jeans’ pocket and making a beeline towards their front closet for shoes and a coat. “I probably won’t see you around.”

“Yeah,” Yunho says. He most definitely sounds longing. He most definitely wants to throw himself like he had his phone.

“Awesome.” Changmin puts his shoes on, fluffs his hair in a make-believe mirror, and then vanishes out the door.

Yunho is left staring after him feeling rather sorry for himself for all of ten seconds, before he gives himself a shake, gives himself a _slap_ , and goes to collect his phone.

Heechul-hyung is still calling, but from his own phone number now.

Yunho answers it with only mild trepidation. “Heechul-hyung,” he says.

“You better have fallen,” Heechul-hyung says, which is about as kind as he’ll ever be about these things. “You better have fallen and hurt yourself or else I’m going to come over there and have _words_.”

Yunho doesn’t respond, just settles himself neatly onto the couch and heaves out a long sigh.

Heechul-hyung pauses. “Okay,” he says. “I take it you’d like me to come over period to fix your flirting problem?” he says.

Yunho feels himself flush. “Heechul-hyung.”

Heechul-hyung’s voice takes on that very no-nonsense tone. “I watched the videos,” he says. “You were very clearly flirting.”

Yunho nearly bites through his own tongue.

“And not with that woman.” Heechul-hyung dismisses _Sakigake Ongaku Banzuke Eight_ ’s Kaori-san without even a moment’s pause. “With Changminnie.”

Yunho manages to get his teeth to stop destroying his own tongue through sheer force of will.

“And don’t even get me started on him,” continues Heechul-hyung. “‘I probably wasn’t even sleeping’ ‘don’t you share shampoo with your husband.’” He scoffs. “Please.”

Yunho ducks his head, pleased, but also worried. “Changminnie does sleep walk,” he says. “And sleep talk. What if he was awake?”

“What, have you been masturbating next to him or something?” Heechul-hyung says rather crassly and seems to take great pleasure in the panicked choking Yunho immediately breaks into when he tries to inhale and exhale at the same damn time.

“Heechul-hyung!” Yunho shrieks, horrified, once he’s managed to get some scrap of air into his lungs.

“So, you have, then.” Heechul-hyung’s back to no-nonsense and utter, cold-hearted facts. Clearly he realizes Yunho isn’t dying of oxygen deprivation anymore. “Gosh, Yurobbong, that’s really fucking creepy.”

“What’s fucking creepy is Changminnie keeps walking into my room and standing in the middle of the doorway like some sort of zombie,” Yunho snaps, at the exact moment Changmin comes striding into the house still wearing his shoes with the announcement of, “Forgot my wallet. Don’t fucking talk to me. It’s one time; you do it _every single day_.”

Yunho is left gaping at their still open doorway while Heechul-hyung crows on in his ear and Changmin goes tromping mud through the entire apartment.

“Yunho-yah.” Heechul-hyung sounds like Christmas has come two full months early. “Is that what I think that is?”

“I don’t know, Hyung.” Yunho’s not really sure where he’s managing to find the words. “Do you think it’s Shim every-interview-is-an-opportunity-to-shame-Yunho-hyung-for-wearing-shoes-in-the-house Changmin wearing shoes _in the house_?”

Changmin comes back out of the bedroom brandishing his wallet and with one middle finger raised preemptively in the air.

“Then yeah.” Yunho takes great pleasure in answering his own rhetorical question. “It is.”

Heechul-hyung sounds amused. “On second thought, you really don’t need my help _at all_ ,” he says. “I’ll tell Donghae that it’s a false alarm. Yurobbong is actually _amazing_ at flirting--”

“Yeah, okay, _thanks_ , Hyung!” Yunho interrupts quickly, fully aware that he’s blushing again and this time Changmin is standing in the middle of the living room with his head tilted to one side and his eyes slowly narrowing.

He tosses his bangs out of his eyes and squints just a little more. “Who are you talking to?” His nostrils are flaring, his mouth hasn’t closed all the way overtop the question mark, and he takes one tiny, involuntary-looking step closer to Yunho and the couch.

His sneakers squeak on the floorboards.

Yunho’s heart jumps up into his throat. He closes his mouth around whatever he was going to say to Heechul-hyung’s suddenly braying laughter and clutches his phone somewhat desperately. “Hyung,” he manages.

Changmin takes another little step, head tilting the other way now and eyes relaxing somewhat at the corners. His pupils are dilating. “Which one?”

Yunho is finding it very hard to look away from him. Changmin’s been working out a lot in preparation for the Tone Tour, and the combination of long, allowed-to-be curly hair and the way his shirt is hanging off his collarbones makes the fact that he’s somehow managed to become even longer and thinner all the more _worse_.

“Heechul,” Yunho says.

There’s a squawk somewhere from his right ear.

“Heechul-hyung,” Yunho amends.

Changmin’s pupils blow out even more. “Heechul,” he breathes, which should be disturbing, because he sounds well and truly pornographic, but Yunho is more distracted by the sudden gust of wind blowing the scent of him directly into the roof of his mouth.

“You left the door open,” Yunho says, a bit nonsensically because they live in an apartment complex and it’s not like those open into the great outdoors, but also matter-of-factly, because drafts, and currents, and possibly the window to their bathroom is cracked because someone was a horrible houseguest re: their toilet.

Changmin’s come even closer now and stands looming over Yunho like he’s about three seconds from doing something ridiculous like _claiming_ him.

Yunho’s heart skips more than a few beats.

And then Changmin is shaking himself, stepping back so hurriedly he nearly trips, eyes wide with fear instead of arousal. “Tell Heechul-hyung I said hi,” he says, still backing away and still stumbling, and then he’s gone and out the apartment almost as quickly as he’d come.

Yunho stares after him again with his heart going a mile a minute and his pants uncomfortably tight.

He swallows.

“Yunho-yah.” Heechul-hyung sounds about as pleased as ever. “Please tell me someone was filming whatever that was.”

Yunho manages to drag his hand free from where he’d been gripping his own thigh so that he can grab a pillow to throw over top his suddenly aching erection. “What?”

Heechul-hyung makes an unattractive snorting noise that is somehow still mildly attractive. “Changminnie’s going out with Kyu, yes?” he says. “I need to text him so that he can suitably tease him for me. And get pictures.”

Yunho frowns but manages to get his toes to finally uncurl. “Hyung,” he says.

“That’s another thing.” Heechul-hyung changes tracks so quickly it makes Yunho’s head spin. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you and Changminnie being informal. Are we the same age?”

Yunho sighs, finally managing to untense a little. “No,” he says. “Sorry.” He knows Heechul-hyung doesn’t actually give a damn (because it’s not like Yunho ever really means it) but he also realizes Heechul-hyung is very kindly changing the subject from whatever the fuck that was.

“Good.” Heechul-hyung masks a yawn.

Yunho feels bad for keeping him up. They’re all busy running around in preparation for SM Town, but Heechul-hyung is serving the country now, and his schedule, while saner and with more sleep, is far more scrutinized.

“Sorry,” Yunho says.

Heechul-hyung somehow manages to wave him off through the phone. “I called you,” he says.

“I called Donghae,” Yunho points out.

“I answered,” Heechul-hyung finishes, which is true, so Yunho doesn’t fight him.

“Hyung,” he says.

“Look, Yundol.” Heechul-hyung yawns again, but this time it’s not at all masked. “I watched those videos, and other videos, and to be honest, I live with Kyuhyunnie so it’s not hard to get access to your lesser half.”

“Isn’t the phrase better half?” Yunho tries to say.

“The man had a golden opportunity to confess his undying love to you and he bought you a purple dildo,” Heechul-hyung retorts.

“Don’t mock Kyungtae,” Yunho says instantly, unable to help himself. “Kyungtae is doing his best.”

There’s a pause.

“The fact that your dildo has a name and is a man says a lot about you,” Heechul-hyung says finally.

Yunho doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He’s had months to get used to it, particularly since he’s caught Changmin trying to throw the thing away multiple times, and also, a surefire way to end an argument is to carry Kyungtae into the kitchen for a totally unneeded but also _totally needed_ clean. “Kyungtae is a boy’s name,” he says.

Heechul-hyung snorts. “I’m going to be a good Hyung and not take the obvious shot,” he says.

Yunho grins. “Love you too, Hyung,” he says.

Heechul-hyung’s breath hitches a little, but then he snorts again. “Stop distracting me with feelings,” he says, tone disparaging but not at all mean. “What was I saying?”

“You were saying Changmin is the lesser half of TVXQ,” Yunho says dryly, mostly for a reaction.

Heechul-hyung scoffs before he can finish his sentence. “The lesser half of the two of you,” he says. “You leave TVXQ out of this.”

“Changmin and I are TVXQ, though,” says Yunho, but Heechul-hyung talks over him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says. “We all know. Every single one of your fans _knows_.”

Yunho purses his lips. _Not all of them_ , he thinks darkly, and then feels bad about it, since technically speaking SM is still in court over their mess and he’s been advised under no uncertain terms to never speak of the issue again.

“My point is I know firsthand that Changminnie is about as crazy about you as you are for him, so if you would just _talk_ to him--”

“Look, I tried,” Yunho says. “He keeps avoiding me.”

Heechul-hyung is unimpressed. “You work together twenty-four-seven-- _try_ harder--” he starts to say and Yunho doesn’t let him finish.

“Besides, we have time,” he says. “And we’re busy right now.”

“You’re famous, Yunho-yah,” says Heechul-hyung. “You’re always going to be busy--”

“After the tour,” Yunho says, and dips his head automatically. “Now, don’t let me keep you up.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Heechul-hyung argues, but signs off with only mild cackling and barely concealed bemusement.

Yunho sits on the couch staring down at his phone for several minutes, and then goes to get in bed because unlike Heechul-hyung, he is as good as an invalid, since he has an international flight in two days.

And if he glares at the ceiling unable to sleep until Changmin comes clamoring home giggling and drunk and loud and knocking into all their furniture and trying to get into Yunho’s room not once, not twice, but three times (until someone--who Yunho knows is probably only Kyuhyun--not so gently tells him off and then ensures that he ends up in his own bed, Jesus, Chwang, grow up) well.

No one has to know but him.

\--

Changmin avoids him all the way up until the moment they’ve been released into the waiting room in full stage costumes with their microphones taped to their cheekbones and their hair plied full of hairspray.

When they went to Central Park as a group, he stuck close to Kyuhyun and Minho. On the double-decker bus, Yunho sat behind Donghae and did V signs for the fans. They had him filming on his phone for the documentary film SM is producing, but Yunho kept his sunglasses on and wished he had earplugs. Afterwards, they had a shower, a rehearsal, and were sent back to their rooms with the fruitless instruction not to wreak too much havoc upon New York City, and to get a good night’s rest prior to one of the larger moments of their lives as performers.

Madison Square Garden. It’s like nothing Yunho’s ever seen before. There’s paraphernalia littering the walls, little posters and signatures from massive world stars here, glossy, embossed tour announcements there. Yunho gets caught up in the magic of it, because it’s easy to, and focusing on those who’ve come before him is humbling and electrifying and a distraction for the fact that the moment they reached the venue Changmin glued himself to Minho and Kyuhyun’s side without so much as a look back.

By the time he’s been primped and polished and stuffed into leather pants that for all intents and purposes should provide some sort of relief for the crane portion of the performance (and yet haven’t for any of the previous stages), Yunho is no less annoyed with how clearly Changmin is ignoring him.  

So he sits on the couch with a phone and a dish of carrots and ruminates down at the recordings of their performance at yesterday and today’s rehearsals.

Changmin appears to be doing jumping jacks or something.

Yunho would watch him, if only to make sure he’s not going to ruin himself so close to their first set--he can hear Boa starting ‘Copy & Paste’ on the stage to roaring screams--but there’s a camera man standing guard over them trying to get footage for the documentary and his ankle had been giving him trouble all yesterday and the first twenty minutes of rehearsal today.

Someone says something over an intercom.

The camera crew moves in for a closer shot of Changmin’s random exercise.

Yunho watches the way yesterday’s him favored his left side, and scowls.

And then Manager-hyung is speaking.

“Changmin-ssi.”

Changmin’s head lifts, curious.

“Go sit on the couch next to Yunho-ssi.”

Yunho feels every muscle in his body thrum, but Changmin scoffs. “I’m busy,” he says.

Yunho wants to roll his eyes. Yunho knows better than to so much as react.

Three minutes later, when Changmin has exhausted his repertoire of fake nervous energy--neither of them get nervous about performances, usually, and the novelty of being a duo has well and truly worn off this late into the game--the younger man crosses the room, picks up a banana, and makes a show of sitting on the arm of Yunho’s chair to unpeel it.

It puts his chest directly into Yunho’s line of sight, glistening and shaven from whatever the fuck kind of treatment the stylists have been giving him since their concept became: Yunho will wear shirt and tie blazer combos and Changmin will wear fluff and double breasted military jackets with nothing underneath.

Yunho allows himself one glance in Changmin’s general direction, to figure out if he’s actually going to eat the banana and if they’re still filming, and then turns his attention back to the rehearsal video.

It’s finished playing.

The icon to repeat the video stares back at Yunho in the center of his wide-eyed and silent reflection; his heart races, his breath feels caught somewhere deep in his chest, and then Changmin leans in close.

The cameraman lowers his camera, pleased. “I think we got it--”

“Have you never used a touch screen before?” says Changmin, catching Yunho’s attention like a boomerang, and reaching out to touch the center of the screen.

Yunho’s heart does a tapdance all around his ribcage.

Changmin takes a messy bite out of the tip of the banana, and for a moment, all Yunho can hear over the roar of his own arousal is the too-loud sounds of the younger man’s rather obnoxious chewing.

He thinks, damn, because instead of being disgusted, Yunho honestly finds he’s just glad that Changmin’s finally said more than five words to him that weren’t ‘don’t step on my foot’ and ‘that’s not your water bottle’ and ‘I call first shower.’

“Damn,” says the cameraman, sounding disappointed. “Did anyone catch that?”

“What, the blatant flirting?” mutters Changmin’s manager, even as Yunho’s own punches him in the shoulder. “Ow,” the man says, voice raised. “We were all thinking it?”

Changmin doesn’t move away from Yunho, but when Yunho glances out of the corner of his eye, he can very clearly tell that the other man isn’t breathing. Because his chest is still, terribly, right the fuck _there_.

Yunho swallows.

“It’s good you didn’t catch that,” his manager is saying. “We can’t market them like that anyway.”

“Why, because Lee Sooman’s still afraid of an omega leader?”

“Because the focus of their Japanese comeback should be the music,” Kyungjae-hyung corrects, tone brooking no arguments. “And that’s Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim--”

“We know,” their staff chorus.

“We have enough footage anyway,” Kyungjae-hyung continues, unbothered.

Boa starts ‘Energetic’ to even more roaring screams.

“That’s our cue,” says Changmin’s manager. “Changmin!”

Changmin stands, banana peel nowhere in sight, and Yunho loses precious seconds detouring over to the trashcan to see if he tossed it.

“Yunho!” Kyungjae-hyung sounds like he knows Yunho was eavesdropping.

Yunho follows the slope of Changmin’s back out of their dressing room and breathes.

Madison Square Garden. He tests his ankle, shifting on the balls of his feet and taking the water bottle he’s handed with barely a sideways glance.

Changmin appears at his side before he can so much as drink, yanking the thing free of Yunho’s grip and sloshing water across his wrist and onto the heavily taped floor. “Hyung.” He gives the label with Yunho’s name on it a quick look, before squirting a mouthful into his own mouth.

Yunho watches him, taken aback, and yet somehow manages to take the thing when Changmin hands it back to him.

Changmin swirls the water around in his cheeks, looking not unlike a chipmunk, and also giving Yunho an incredibly inescapable sense of déjà vu. When he catches Yunho looking at him, he flushes, and the gape of his neckline affords him absolutely no decorum. His throat bobs when he swallows. “What?”

One of the stage managers gestures towards Changmin and the wires he has to go get hooked up to in the center of the audience so they can fly in for the start of their set.

Changmin tosses his hair out of his eyes, still flushed. “You’d think I was the one who’d been poisoned,” he mutters, and crosses to where the stage managers need him to be.

Yunho lets the people surrounding him herd him out into the crowd, letting the cover of darkness afford him two seconds to just breathe through whatever the heck that was, before the fact that he’s on stage and two seconds from flight catch back up to him.

“Yunho-yah!” Senior staff lean in close, shouting to be heard over the backing track and all the fans.

Yunho feels professionalism and practice slide over him like a well worn second skin. He looks to the right, checks the buckles of the harness, tests their give, and gives the man next to him a nod.

His heart thumps.

The into track proclaims them kings of SMP. The lights come up. Yunho lifts his head, spreads his arm, and flies.

\--

2011 becomes 2012 becomes the _Tone Tour_ in what feels like seconds but is really two months of back to back schedules and sleepless nights.

Donghae stops texting Yunho disappointed emoticons only because they’re not in the same country long enough for them to have the same effect. Heechul-hyung settles into a groove with his radio program and informs Yunho that he ought to try it someday.

Changmin goes out with Kyuline the day before they’re due to fly to Singapore for a fanmeet and gets well and truly pissed, and no matter of puppy dog eyes (hidden behind sunglasses because neither of them are an idiot) and pouting can get him out of the fact that his friends are idiots and they answered a phone call from Donghee-hyung when Donghee-hyung was live on air for his radio show.

By the time they’re running tour rehearsal and finalizing the setlists and stage pieces, discussing whatever nascent feelings Yunho thought maybe could have been blooming between him and Changmin honestly feels like something for a later, less stressful and daunting time period.

And then they walk out of a contract meeting (I want to do a television drama, Yunho said. Wait a year, SM said. I want to see my family for the New Year, Changmin said. We can do that, SM said) and into a tour meeting where the first thing Sam-san says to them is, “good, you’re here. What do you think of this?”

“Nice to see you too,” Changmin says, Japanese sounding rusty even though they’ve just recovered from _Kohaku Uta Gassen_ and three end of year Korean programs.

They’ve only just gotten off the plane; had been shepherded straight to the practice rooms the moment they set foot in Tokyo.

“Sam-san.” Changmin’s head bows, not all the way serious.

Sam-san doesn’t seem bothered, used to it.

Yunho crosses the floor to take the laptop he’s holding out to them when Changmin doesn’t, curious. “Um,” he says.

“For the MC,” a manager-san puts in. “We think it would be funny.”

Changmin stops making faces at their dancers and comes to stand behind Yunho. “Funny?” he says.

“Relevant,” someone says, but Yunho is too busy watching what looks like a comedy sketch between two men that Yunho thinks he should know, but doesn’t, since to his horror, he hasn’t had time to keep up on his Japanese variety.

“ _Bibari and Rui_ ,” he says.

“Like BL,” someone says, different from before, but no less apologetic sounding. “There’s another one that’s A-san and O-san--”

“But that’s a little too on the nose,” says Sam-san, and Yunho hands the laptop over to Changmin so that he can better appraise the man.

He stands firm, years of working with them to back him up, and watches Yunho with knowing eyes.

Changmin closes the laptop with a too-loud click. “I’m assuming Yunho-hyung will be the aggressor,” he says, the Korean somehow not sounding out of place among all the Japanese.

One of their managers stumbles. He’s a Korean one, who’s learning Japanese simply by proxy and because Changmin takes great pleasure in taunting the lot of them when he’s gotten less than three hours of sleep and Yunho is the only other person around fluent.

Yunho almost feels bad.

Sam-san looks back, still unfazed. “Yes,” he says.

“Typical,” Changmin scoffs, but in Korean, because he knows better.

Yunho pastes a professional smile across his face for the both of them, because even though no one in the room is fooled, it’s the right thing to do. “If you think it would be funny,” he says.

“And relevant.”

“Lucrative, more like,” Changmin mutters.

Yunho steps in close to him so that he can trample across his foot in a gentle, not likely to cause problems for the upcoming tour sort of way.

\--

The first rehearsal of it is… awkward, to say the least.

Yunho watched as much of the skit as he could find online pretty much the first moment he had and found it funny and easy enough language-wise, but standing in the middle of the not-so empty stage with Changmin having to groan into a microphone about how the nuisance is gone or whatever is, quite frankly, not at all the same.

They don’t usually rehearse the MC’s to this level, but Yunho had wanted to be sure, and Changmin had been flighty and weird about it from the start, but no one had had any objections when they’d reconvened in Tokyo after Yunho’d had his hair cut and dyed honey blond.

Sure, there had been quite a few more phone calls home to probably Kyuhyun and sure, Changmin was steadfastly avoiding being alone in rooms with Yunho, but Yunho really hadn’t thought it was going to be that much of a big deal until he was standing behind the man in the center of Yokohama arena doing what was only going to be the first of many run-throughs.

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho manages. He made the mistake of opening his mouth to start his lines, and the cloying taste of Changmin’s discomfort had sent him into something a coughing fit, and left the few staff still paying attention to the two of them shooting him concerned looks.

Yunho had raised his hand to let them go back to fiddling with the lighting cues and preparing the projection screens, before turning his attention back to the nape of Changmin’s neck.

There’s goosebumps littering the skin there, exposed even though he’s in a windbreaker with his hair long and freshly washed. Like a newly groomed, incredibly fluffy, _angry_ puppy.

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho says again.

He gets no response.

“Look, are you really that uncomfortable with the thought of fanservice--”

“It’s not that it’s fanservice,” Changmin says, and turns at the same time so that Yunho can see just how affected he is by all of this. His eyes are wild and wet-looking and his lips are bitten raw. He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks, but then, he hasn’t, and Yunho hasn’t, and in just under twenty-four hours, they’re going to be shuttled to a studio for an ice cream commercial set to film well into the early hours of the next morning.

Yunho frowns. “Is it because it’s me?” he starts to say, and Changmin speaks at the same time as him.

“Yes, that’s exactly what it is,” he says, and then seems to stop, horrified, but the damage is already done.

For a second, Yunho has no words. He was all set for Changmin to laugh at him, to tell him not to be stupid, that they’d been in the business together for almost nine years, and that a little cuddling on stage to keep their fanbase wasn’t going to ruin them. He’d expected Changmin to bow out because he’s tired, or to tell him it was stupid to be practicing Bibari and Rui when Yunho really ought to be focusing on not messing up the into choreography because of the weirdness of the light-show aspect.

He had not been expecting a confirmation. “Okay,” he says easily enough. “Well, I mean, it’s just five minutes out of the show, so.” He shrugs. “I don’t even have to hug you--I could probably get away with just like… sniffing you?”

Changmin if possible seems to go even tenser, and Yunho feels immediately bad.

“Yeah, never mind,” he says, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck trying for self-deprecating. “Sorry, I’m tired.” He tries out a smile.

Changmin doesn’t smile back.

“Look, it’s just fanservice, and I know you don’t like fanservice.”

Changmin scoffs, almost like he can’t help himself.

“But I really do think the fans are going to love it,” Yunho continues anyway. “And again, it’s just one small MC portion--and you don’t even have to talk a lot for it.”

“No.” Changmin makes a face. “I just have to squeal like some sort of kept maiden who’d like nothing more than for you to mount her.” His nostrils flare, and his stance shifts.

Yunho looks at him in his full, skinny, wearing leggings underneath shorts glory, and frowns. “That’s an oddly specific comparison,” he says finally.

Changmin stares back at him like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “Have you swallowed a dictionary?” he says.

Yunho realizes rather abruptly that their voices have risen, but they’re speaking Korean so no one seems too bothered. Usually when they’re in Japan they like to make a point not to do so, but usually when they’re in Japan, they’re not having weird arguments about stage gags.

He frowns. “Changmin,” he says.

Changmin sighs, and then throws a hand up to ruffle angrily through his hair. “Look, it’s not a big deal,” he says, flipping languages like he’s only just now been caught out. “I’ll be fine about it for the show.”

Yunho blinks but does the same. “Okay. Changmin--”

“It’s not a big deal,” Changmin repeats. “I’m just… nervous--”

“It’s because I’m an omega, isn’t it,” Yunho says, and he hadn’t meant for his voice to carry, but well, it has. He’s used Japanese, spoken directly into the microphone, and if he hadn’t been out before (it wasn’t like he was hiding but it wasn’t like it was anyone’s fucking business) well, he sure was now.

Sam-san glances up from his careful monitoring of the sound cues.

Two of the dancer-sans stumble mid playful choreography. Another barks out nervous laughter, and forks over a handful of yen.

Changmin’s ears go faintly tipped pink. He doesn’t dispute the fact.

“Right,” Yunho says, not into his microphone this time, and turns on his heel to go see what’s taking so long at the soundboard.

“Wait, Hyung,” Changmin says, voice carrying because he’s speaking into is microphone too, but Yunho pretends he can’t hear him in favor of stage notes.

\--

“Listen,” Yunho tells Changmin, teeth gritted, head pounding, and ready to give up on the entire thing well before they’ve so much as moved cities. “I understand that it’s awful to have to _submit to me_ \--”

Changmin makes a pained, startled noise, and looks like he’d like to be literally anywhere but here.

Yunho was counting on that, had actually made sure they were both in the van and five minutes into their journey on a freeway so that Changmin had absolutely nowhere to go if he fucking wanted to for that express purpose.

It is by all definitions, an ambush.

And Changmin is behaving very much like a cornered deer. “Hyung,” he says, like the honorific is going to make Yunho stop talking about this loudly in Japanese while most of their Japanese staff sits behind them heading back to their apartment and the various hotels everyone’s been put up in for ease.

Yunho ignores him, some part of him taking pleasure in the way Changmin seems finally unable to look away from him.

 _Good_ , he thinks. He’s got an early flight back to Seoul for some contract meetings and SM business, and all Changmin has is a few screen tests for his movie.

He can damn well listen.

“Changmin,” he says, mostly to watch Changmin’s throat jump. “We have had _five shows_.”

Changmin’s throat continues to bob, but he doesn’t say anything.

“There are twenty left.”

Changmin’s eye twitches. “Twenty-one,” he says.

Yunho ignores him. “Pull yourself together,” he says.

Clearly, this is not where Changmin thought this was going. “Wait, what?” he says, at the same time the van turns off at their exit and starts heading down side streets towards the parking garage.

“I realize it’s a hardship, but honestly, I thought you were more professional than this,” Yunho says, as their drive turns into the garage and starts cruising for both a parking space and their floor.

“Professional,” Changmin repeats.

“It’s the middle of the show,” Yunho says. “Can we have one show where I don’t have to inhale death and despair because your fucking hormones say ‘no sir’ to letting me manhandle you?”

“Wait. What?” Changmin says, as their driver slows to a halt at their floor.

Jooyoung-hyung darts out of the front seat almost desperately, disappearing around the back to grab their things out of the car, while Kyungjae-hyung fiddles for the door to the back seat.

“It really is not that big of a deal,” Yunho says, unbuckling his seat and then waiting for Changmin to do the same. He’d claimed the window seat, mostly because he had just wanted to be home as soon as possible, but Kyungjae-hyung had taken one for the team and forced Changmin into the middle seat.

Yunho had been grateful for the interference and vowed to argue for giving the man a raise.

Now, watching his manager stand awkwardly outside the van waiting for Changmin to stop gaping at Yunho and start unstrapping so that they can get inside and out of the winter and _sleep_ , Yunho decides to do more than just argue.

Changmin seems to come back into himself, ducking a head politely towards Driver-san, and then scrambling out of the van after their managers with more polite bowing towards the Japanese staff behind them.

Yunho follows him with his arms crossed. It’s cold, and he’d barely done more than strip out of the tour t-shirt and into a hoodie once they’d been ushered off stage.

Jooyoung-hyung comes to his side carrying Changmin’s bags, and Kyungjae-hyung reaches around them both to grab Yunho’s.

They all head indoors.

Yunho, and the newly formed goosebumps lining his arms, are incredibly relieved.

Changmin is still staring at Yunho with a furrow in between his eyes. “What are you even talking about?” he says.

“You taste like you’d rather be anywhere in the world than on stage with me,” Yunho says, as Kyungjae-hyung pulls open the door to the building and only stumbles slightly getting through lugging Yunho’s bag.

Changmin’s ears go pink. “It’s not my fault the skit calls for sticking your nose in my hair,” he mutters.

Yunho passes him and heads for the elevator without a backwards glance. “It’s not mine either,” he says shortly. “And it really is not a big deal.”

Changmin shoots Jooyoung-hyung a quick look and sticks a foot out to keep the elevator door open for him and Changmin’s bag.

Once they’re all in, Kyungjae-hyung presses the button for their floor.

The doors ding shut.

“I literally never said it was,” Changmin says. He finally seems like he’s caught up with the program, but he also yawns in time with the elevator doors opening. “Yunho-hyung.”

“Look, I just think that you should get over yourself and treat it like acting,” Yunho says. “It’s hard enough when you’re acting like I’m killing you. You don’t have to smell like it too.”

Changmin pauses.

Jooyoung-hyung clears his throat uncomfortably, and Yunho shifts to let him and Kyungjae-hyung file out first.

Changmin still hasn’t moved.

Yunho stares back at him, unfazed.

Kyungjae-hyung and Jooyoung-hyung exchange a long look, before sighing.

The elevator doors slide closed and the number in the top corner starts decreasing, letting them know that someone lower down has called for it.

Changmin’s fingers twitch.

Yunho had a very bad feeling.

“It’s not my fault that the skit calls for you sticking your face in my hair,” Changmin repeats, over enunciating this time, and Yunho reaches forward to press the button to the floor two floors below theirs to save them from the younger man doing something stupid, like pressing the stop button.

The doors open almost like an afterthought, but Changmin doesn’t budge.

Yunho grabs him by the wrist and pulls the two of them out, glancing around nervously for non-existent fans--their building has incredible security and it’s nearly two in the morning. He looks around for the stairs, and starts walking, tugging Changmin along after him.

Changmin goes all of two steps before he yanks his hand free, but he follows Yunho into the stairwell agreeably enough. Self-preservation and years of being followed everywhere will do that to you.

Better to be in the stairwell on their way up to the safety of home, than out in the open where anyone and their mother could be nosy neighbors and open the door, wonderful security notwithstanding.

As an afterthought, Yunho pulls his phone out to let Kyungjae-hyung know they’re coming back upstairs.

 _Good_ , the man says. _Five minutes and we’re locking you out though_.

Yunho’s lips twitch, and he leaves the message on read.

Changmin climbs the stairs beside him with his head down.

Yunho sighs and re-pockets his phone. “Look, Changmin-ah,” he says, at the same time Changmin stops them both on a landing and practically backs Yunho up against the wall.

“What are you even implying?” he says. His voice is serious, his eyes are unreadable, and Yunho feels traitorous, terrible warmth thread down the center of his back.

His breath comes out in two tiny bursts before he manages to get himself under control. “Nothing,” he says.

Changmin doesn’t seem to trust him, but he backs up a little bit anyway, almost like he’s only just realized the compromising position they’re almost in.

Yunho follows him with his eyes and tries not to feel bad for missing him.  “Just,” he says. “Is it really that big of a deal to be--” He breaks off, not at all sure what to say, how to phrase it, how to encompass the role that Changmin has to play on stage every day. The entire skit is stereotypical to a fault, even not considering traditional secondary gender roles. “Is it really that big of a deal that it makes you act like--”

“Like what?” Changmin asks, but he knows.

He knew from the moment Yunho had asked, a week ago, and hadn’t said anything--hadn’t done _anything¸_ except stink of prejudice and displeasure every single time Yunho tugged him in close and whispered in his ear about nuisances.

“Like Jaejoong,” Yunho says, and takes sweet, vindictive joy in the immediate and visceral reaction he gets from Changmin.

The younger man shoves him up against the wall, eyes blazing and mouth pulling open in a snarl and Yunho relishes in it, because nobody had ever told them it was okay to talk about it once they were no longer walking the eggshells of the lawsuit. Nobody had told them it was okay to take a moment to regroup, that they had all-kills on music programs and number ones on the Oricon daily charts and a fanbase that was ready to fight on their behalf, so if they wanted, they could talk about the things that were said and the people that they lost in the name of wealth and control and whatever the fuck _else_ the lawsuit had been.

But then almost as soon as it’s happened Changmin is pulling back and looking chastened, horrified, like he’s fucked up, like he was the one who said the unforgivable terrible thing--Changmin’s nothing like Jaejoong, Changmin’s _nothing_ like Jaejoong, _Changmin stayed_ and keeps staying and will neve _r leave_ and Yunho should be _ashamed_ for even _daring_ to think of the comparison--

Yunho’s phone beeps.

Changmin’s breath comes out like he’s forgotten how to do it on his own.

For a moment, neither of them seems able to look away from each other’s eyes.

Then Changmin looks away, and the spell is broken. “You should get that,” he says, and turns to start climbing the stairs again.

Yunho stays pressed tight to the wall barely breathing for all of one minute, before at last his legs seem capable of holding his weight, and his fingers seem unable to unclench from the fists he doesn’t remember curling them into. He swallows.

 _We’re coming_ , he tells Kyungjae-hyung with shaking fingers. He’s not thinking about the churn in his stomach, or the way his hips want to hitch back and up and open. _Don’t lock us out_.

 _Changminnie’s already here_ , Kyungjae-hyung says. _Looks ready to kill. What did you do?_

 _Something I shouldn’t have_ , Yunho says. _Hyung_. He gets his bearing, starts up the remaining stairs, and comes out onto their floor. _Let’s flip Bibari and Rui for Fukuoka_.

There’s a pause.

Yunho worries for a second that Kyungjae-hyung is going to tell him no.

Then the door to their apartment opens, and his manager stands in the doorframe sighing. “You know it’s your show, right?” he says quietly. “You and Changmin can do whatever you like with the MC.”

Yunho blinks.

“Now get inside,” Kyungjae-hyung continues. “We have an early flight tomorrow.”

“Sorry,” Yunho says.

He’s not apologizing to the right person, but Kyungjae-hyung is a good friend first foremost, so he says nothing about it.

Yunho shuts the door behind himself and sighs.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY COMEBACK START EVERYONE. BE SURE TO TWEET WITH THE HASHTAGS #동방신기 #RETURN_OF_THE_KING #THE_CHANCE_OF_LOVE
> 
> Ways to earn my love ~~and have input into when I post~~  
>  1) retweets/reblogs  
> 2) comments  
> 3) kudos
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/171997034270/title-my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/975371629118283777)


	9. simmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme song for 9 was uh.... Whistle? I think? I don't remember it was so long ago. 
> 
> Kinah and Hexmen betaed they're the best. ENJOY I LIVE ALONE EVERYONE WE ARE BLESSED.
> 
>  **Note:** Hovering over vocabulary (on a browser) will bring up a box with definitions. This information can also be found in the [Primer](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/aboau).

**9\. Simmer**

\--

Changmin turns twenty-five their first show in Niigata, and Yunho takes great joy in shoving his entire face into a cake. It’s partly payback. For his own birthday in Fukuoka, Changmin hadn’t been gentle in the slightest and Yunho hadn’t been prepared in the least, which ended with him inhaling cake and all of their pheromone-sensitive staff making odd faces whenever Yunho walked into a room or stood upwind. Sam-san laughed about it for all of a week. Yunho’s hair didn’t recover fully for most of that weekend. Pay. Back.

And also, when Changmin starts to fight him, when he starts to shove up against the grip Yunho has between his shoulder blades like he’s been doing for every single Bibari and Rui sketch they’ve done so far, Yunho maybe shoves harder than he’d originally intended. Then he grabs a huge handful of the cake and slaps it directly into Changmin’s face.

Changmin empties an entire water bottle over top of his head the moment they’re officially off stage, not even all the way out of his tour t-shirt.

“I’m in a movie,” he says tersely, clearly annoyed, and shoves his still dripping bangs up off his forehead.

Yunho tries to focus on how that’s overkill--Changmin laughed at himself a little self-deprecatingly and very much for the fans, before going off stage to lose the leather jacket and most of his cake mask--and not to stare too obviously at Changmin’s left nipple.

Manager-san presses two fingers in between his eyes. “Yunho-san,” he starts to say.

“You’re a dick, Hyung,” Changmin interjects in Korean. He pulls on the hoodie Jooyoung-hyung has waiting for him without pause.

“It’s your birthday,” Yunho explains, fully aware he’s blushing yet unable to stop it.

“Exactly.” Changmin blows his bangs out of his eyes, annoyed. “Worst present ever.”

Yunho blinks. “We decided we weren’t doing presents, though,” he says. “Last year.”

Changmin isn’t paying attention to him, and is instead distracted with 50-san and the particularly lewd sniff the man has aimed towards Changmin’s still too-long and faintly smelling of strawberry bangs.

Yunho watches his bandmate lumber off towards their dancers, grinning.

He purses his lips. “We did say no presents,” he says, to whomever is around.

Kyungjae-hyung, selected, sighs. “Yunho-yah.”

“For tomorrow, I need you to tell Changmin he has to be Bibari.” He pauses. “Or Rui. Or whoever. The one who does the grabbing.” His body feels lit up with some sort of sudden bout of maybe-insanity probably-- _most likely_ \--excitement, because as soon as he speaks he’s struck by the feeling that yes. Of course. This is clearly the solution. He turns more solidly towards Kyungjae-hyung. “Hyung.”

The man sighs.

\--

“Tonight, you should be the aggressor,” says Jooyoung-hyung, clearly the sacrificial lamb, right as the stylists finish finessing the drape of Changmin’s purple-blue shirt thing.

Yunho fumbles the water bottle he’d been sipping from, and is instantly grateful for the existence of straws.

The staff member nearest him just rolls his eyes and rights the bottle neatly, before handing him his mic.

Yunho takes it with a smile.  

“Changmin-ah.” Jooyoung-hyung sounds pained.

Changmin’s head tilts down so that a coordi can do something to his already sweat-damp bangs. “I should do what?” he says, also in Korean, but slurred, informal, and for some reason while staring at Yunho.

“Is it the Korean?” Jooyoung-hyung says. “Sam-san.”

“Tonight, for Bibari and Rui, you should be the aggressor,” Sam-san says, voice polite, to the point, and yet somehow still managing to be devoted to his craft and the tour.

Yunho is going to owe Sam-san at least two ballad numbers without set pieces for the next tour.

Changmin’s eyes narrow.

Yunho swallows and releases the water bottle. “You heard the man.” He steps as close as he feels comfortable with and sets a hand on Changmin’s shoulder, patting the younger man awkwardly for all of two seconds before thinking better of it and heading back to his taped marks on the stage. “You be in charge this time,” Yunho finishes, not sure what to do with his hands now, but also holding onto a microphone.

Changmin’s still looking at him with narrowed eyes, but the tour VCR is finishing and they’re both being gestured out onto the still dark stage.

Yunho readies his stage smile and focuses on his first lyrics in ‘Telephone.’ He’s fine. The next few songs go fine and well and Yunho is _fine_.

It’s not until the moment itself, staring straight ahead with his heart pounding in his ears, trying to remember how to breathe, that Yunho maybe starts to regret the decision.

Changmin takes his time, padding closer, grinning for the fans no doubt, and practically living for the sudden and frenzied screaming when they realize what’s going on. Who’s doing what, exactly. Changmin-san is going to hold Yunho-san. _Omo_.

Yunho swallows.

Changmin’s arm comes around his shoulders, the ghost of his breath puffs out somewhere near Yunho’s left ear, and Yunho has to do everything not to fucking _shudder_.

“Yunho-san,” Changmin says, which gets lost in all the screaming but Yunho feels it down every notch in his spine. “Yunho-san.”

The fans might hear that one, but Yunho doesn’t know. Yunho’s too busy making probably an awful face, projected on at least three screens for everyone and their mother to see and record and upload to the internet to be giffed, screencapped, and spread until he’s old and gray.

“The nuisance is gone,” Changmin finishes, directly into the microphone this time so the fans definitely hear it and gives Yunho one last terrible-- _wonderful_ \--squeeze, before retreating.

Yunho fights the urge to scream mindlessly into his microphone for a few seconds. Then he rallies a grin, ignores the rabbit-quick beat of his heart, and manages to make a joke about how it’s different on this end. He talks about how Changmin must understand the appeal. His voice doesn’t break.

Changmin doesn’t seem bothered, though, grinning and joking right back, and for a second Yunho is almost lost _again_ , because that happy, honest grin and the mismatch to those beautiful eyes honestly is _worse_ than having him pressed up to every inch of Yunho breathing on about nuisances.

It makes Yunho want to go back and do it how they’ve always done it; it makes him actually curious what Changminnie smells like.

His heart pounds. Yunho smiles.

Afterwards, Changmin lets Yunho take the passenger seat with absolutely no fight, pats all of their dancers on the back a few times and holds his brand new guitar with open, honest hands, and generally seems polite, happy, and not at all uncomfortable.

Not like he’d been the month prior, or even the day before.

“Fuck,” Yunho says, even as Kyungjae-hyung shoots him an odd look in the rearview mirror of their van, and even as Changmin starts up an earnest conversation with Konda-san about his brand new guitar.

Between the fans’ response and Changmin’s response, there’s no way they’re not going to do that again.

Yunho will just have to get over himself, and hope to God that he can somehow keep it together and not embarrass himself too horribly because of it. Because this is certainly better than before. If he has to be near-aroused and guilty every single time then so be it; at the very least, he doesn’t have to live with the physical evidence of how very much Changmin wants nothing to do with him.

\--

They establish a rhythm. Both on stage--falling into line alongside their setlist and setpieces and the interweaving storytelling in their tour VCRs to make a show that Yunho isn’t just proud to be a part of and is instead proud to have worked on and conceived and poured blood, sweat, and tears into--and in Bibari and Rui itself. The fans love the variety, and for a long while, they often find themselves doing both versions back to back.

Yunho likes those days better than the others, when they draw straws or play rock paper scissors and he has to work particularly hard not to be too obvious or to feel too guilty about how very much he enjoys it. When they do them back to back, he can make a show of hating it, for the fans, and not have to face Changmin’s oddly pinched looks during costume changes.

But the show goes on, and on, and on, until the third week in April, just before their final two tour dates in Osaka. They did three back to back shows in Tokyo Dome and Yunho cried like a baby over the White Ocean, but Bibari and Rui at least went well on all three nights, to the point where Changmin had actually been the one to insist they do it that first night.

Needless to say, when Changmin comes snarling around a corner and stalks Yunho deep into their apartment hallway with a blatantly pissed off expression on his perfect face, Yunho honestly has no idea what he’s done now. He’d actually been feeling rather content with himself.

“Yunho-hyung,” snaps Changmin.

“Changmin-ah?” Yunho tries. He backs away from the younger man somewhat frantically, mind racing to try to figure out if he fucked with Changmin’s shampoo, toothpaste, shower curtain, bathroom floors, or wore his shoes inside again.

Horrifically, he finds he’s done basically _all_ of those things, so it’s no telling which one Changmin is about to absolutely roast him about.

They’re alone in their apartment; Kyungjae-hyung and Jooyoung-hyung are both on a much needed grocery run together, and Myunghwan-hyung has stepped out to make a call back home to his family.

If Changmin wants to murder Yunho for daring not to squeeze from the bottom, he damn well can; there is no one around to save Yunho.

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says again.

“Changmin-ah?” Yunho says again.

“What is your problem?” Changmin says.

Yunho takes two steps back, meets the hall wall, and gulps. That’s a trap. He knows well enough from having lived with Changmin for almost ten years that his go-to honest answer of, ‘ _I don’t know, Changmin. Please enlighten me?_ ’ is likely to get him even more verbally eviscerated and end with the two of them nearly coming to blows (or Changmin tripping in water and spraining his wrist).

“Um,” he says anyway, because it’s rapidly becoming clear that Changmin is not going to help him out. “Is this a trick question?”

“You’re the one who was making a big deal about me being uncomfortable,” Changmin says, crossing his arms and lifting one utterly unimpressed brow. “And now who look who’s uncomfortable.”

Yunho stares back at him, annoyed at how he has to lift his chin to best meet his eyes, and tempted to look down just in case Changmin’s cheating and wearing insoles inside his socks or something. “Um,” he says again. “Well, you’re pinning me to this wall.”

Changmin’s nostrils flare at the end of that sentence and his lips part seemingly before he can stop himself.

Yunho mirrors the movement before he can stop as well, and ends up going a little weak-kneed at the sudden change in temperature in the room. He can taste his own arousal. Yunho is suddenly and horribly guilty.

Changmin’s lip finish their flehmen response and curl back in displeasure. “Yah,” he says, before Yunho can feel even more sorry for himself and his terrible, can’t-help-it reactions. “You are _doing_ it again.”

That… was not what Yunho thought he was going to say. He blinks. “What?”

“You are _doing_ it again,” Changmin repeats, and uncrosses his arms to stick a finger into the center of Yunho’s chest for good measure. “Stop it.”

Yunho blinks again. He looks down at Changmin’s nail bed. “Stop what?” His chest feels like an electrical current has gone through it, his heart is pounding again, and a more than small part of him wants to press forward until Changmin’s entire palm is pressed up against his breastbone. Yunho’s fingers flex, his toes curl, and he feels another stab of guilt.

“That!” Changmin presses harder, clearly annoyed, and takes a step closer.

Which helps about zero. Now Yunho’s body is remembering the concert before, when Changmin walked up to him laughing dramatically, and whispered in his ear. He’d been warm, comforting, and arousing. Yunho’d been too hot, too comforted, and immediately self-deprecating. He shudders, for a moment lost to the emotions, and then, again, feeling incredibly sorry for himself.

“Yunho-hyung!” Changmin is all of a sudden right in Yunho’s face, but Yunho has absolutely no time to handle any of that, because Changmin is still snarling: “You are a _hypocrite_.” The younger man over enunciates.

Yunho pauses. “I’m a what?” he manages finally, not entirely sure how he’s still standing but also well and truly confused.

“A hypocrite.” Changmin seems to realize just how close he’s gotten to Yunho, because he takes a few steps back and rubs at the back of his neck for a second. “You’re the one who was making a big deal about how _I_ was uncomfortable with Bibari and Rui--”

Yunho’s brow furrows. “But you were uncomfortable--” he tries to interject.

“--And now you’re the one _clearly_ uncomfortable whenever I so much as touch you--” To make his point, Changmin goes to reach out for Yunho’s chest again, and Yunho flinches away from him reflexively.

Changmin stares back at him with an eyebrow raised, annoyed, but Yunho can’t really recover from that so he settles for trying out a confused smile.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he says.

Changmin fake laughs. “Right. What was it you said on day one again? ‘We don’t need to do that?’” He throws both hands in the air to make quotations, and Yunho debates boxing his ears before what Changmin’s actually saying registers.

“That was just banter!” Yunho protests. “For Tokyo--banter! We always banter about it! The fans make us do it twice almost every night!”

Changmin doesn’t seem convinced; if anything, he seems more annoyed.

Yunho tries to think back on their most recent Bibari and Rui sets, ignoring Tokyo Dome. Yeah, there’d been that stretch in March where Changmin seemed particularly annoyed, but Yunho had felt bad enough about their hell-schedule and the fact that Changmin was running on zero hours of sleep and technically still in mourning, so he hadn’t given it much thought.

And certainly he’d never thought it was because of him--because Changmin for some reason thought Yunho was _uncomfortable_.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Yunho says again, for emphasis. “I’m not!”

Changmin looks like he wants to say something, so Yunho straightens, comes off the wall, and shoves his own fingers into the center of Changmin’s chest.

“I’m not uncomfortable with Bibari and Rui,” Yunho insists again. “Switching it was my idea!”

Changmin’s mouth opens, he breathes, and then he stops, blinking. “What?”

Yunho pulls his hand back and crosses his eyes, trying not to look too smug. “It was my idea to change up the roles,” he explains. “So clearly I’m not the one who’s uncomfortable.” He’s definitely failing the whole not looking or sounding smug thing. “Ha,” he says, because why not.

Changmin looks a mix between constipated and like he’d like to smack Yunho. “It was your idea to switch,” he repeats.

“Yes,” Yunho says. “After your birthday--”

“Then why are you acting like a flighty virgin the moment I so much as grab you!” snaps Changmin, not interested, and stepping in to grab Yunho by the shoulder almost as if making a point.

Yunho’s heart rate picks up because he really can’t help himself, but he manages to keep Changmin’s gaze through force of will.

That seems to do nothing to help, though, because if anything Changmin just looks even more annoyed. “Your heart goes crazy every time I do that,” he says. “And you smell--” He pauses, inhaling, and scowling. “If I smelled even half as disgusted as you do, I can see why you were so pissed off,” he mutters.

Yunho blinks. “I’m not disgusted?” he tries to say, but Changmin gives him a shake anyway.

“You smell _uncomfortable_ ,” Changmin says, voice tight and over enunciated. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

The grip he has on Yunho’s bicep is rapidly becoming sharp and _actually_ painful, so even though Yunho isn’t uncomfortable in the slightest--aroused, sure, annoyed that he’s aroused, for sure, considering doing a Naver search into masochism, unfortunately, also for sure--he pulls away anyway, growling.

“Let me go,” he says, shoving out of Changmin’s grip. “Changmin, I’m not uncomfortable-- _you_ were the one who was uncomfortable--”

“Only because I like you!” Changmin snaps back, clearly unbothered, and bats at Yunho’s hands when Yunho keeps trying to wrestle himself free. “Stop that!”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Yunho says. “Wait--what--”

“I was only uncomfortable because I like you,” Changmin says immediately, still sounding distracted and still fighting fruitlessly against the grip Yunho very quickly gets on both of his hands. “Yah--Hyung--”

Yunho hauls him in close, heart racing. “Say that again?” he says.

Changmin stares back at him, not blinking. Then he seems to realize what he’s said and he blushes, starting at the tips of his ears, rapidly spreading across both of his unfairly sharp cheekbones, and disappearing into the hollow of his collarbones. He starts fighting the hold Yunho has on his hands immediately, now that he’s realized, steadfastly refusing to meet Yunho’s eyes.

“Nothing--you’re hearing things--let me go--”

“The only reason I was uncomfortable is because I like you,” Yunho says, somewhat desperately, and also because he can feel himself losing the fight to keep Changmin in the hallway with him, and he can tell the moment the younger man gets loose he’s going to disappear into his bedroom and not reappear until all of their managers are present to serve as a buffer. “Changdol!” Yunho raises his voice, annoyed with the fighting, and hauls.

He ends up slamming against the wall spine first, which is awful, but Changmin also ends up pressed against him to the point where there are absolutely no secrets between them, and his bandmate has both hands behind Yunho’s head like some sort of male lead.

Yunho has no idea when that happened. Last he’d registered, they’d still been holding hands; only, when he pushes back against the wall, it’s to find Changmin’s palms there keeping him from slamming the back of his head into the wall.

He swallows.

Changmin very slowly pulls his lower half away from Yunho.

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho says again, voice hoarse, and very suddenly unable to look away from his mouth. “The only reason I was uncomfortable, was because I like you.”

Changmin blinks.

Yunho blinks.

For a moment, no one says anything.

Then, Changmin clears his throat. He hasn’t moved either of his hands. “Then, uh. What are you going to do about that?” he starts to say, and Yunho doesn’t have to think before he’s shoving forward to kiss him.

Changmin moans, eyes falling shut immediately, and it’s easy to end up pressed so tightly together Yunho can’t tell where one of them begins and the other ends because they’re already there.

One of Changmin’s hands disengages from whatever it was he’d been doing behind Yunho’s head so that he can grip at Yunho’s hair and the other comes to rest against the wall like every cliché manga but Yunho doesn’t really notice nor care because he’s too busy finding out what it’s like to kiss Changmin.

There’s tongue and teeth and getting a front row seat to the roof of Changmin’s mouth that ends with Changmin shuddering and groaning and pistoning his hips even closer, and Yunho goes boneless before he can help himself, legs going weak at the joint.

“Changdol-ah,” he starts to say, into the swell of Changmin’s lips, and it’s like by speaking he’s broken some sort of spell, because in what feels like two seconds flat Changmin is halfway across the apartment, breathing hard.

Yunho stays where he was up against the wall, his own chest heaving.

He feels lightheaded, and when he scrapes his own tongue against the back of his front teeth he goes even more dizzy at the taste of it, Changmin’s and his arousal, mingling together at the top of his mouth like an expensive and incredibly effective drug cocktail that tells Yunho’s hips to shift back and up and Yunho’s body to go wet and loose and wanting.

Across the room, Changmin whines, and wow, Yunho thinks briefly, he must be able to _smell it_ \--

He breathes, gets himself together, and manages to stand on his own.

“Changmin?” His voice doesn’t yet sound his own.

“Sorry,” Changmin says finally, significantly more composed than Yunho thinks he has any right to be. “I’m sorry, Yunho-hyung.”

“What for?” Yunho says, and wonders, but Changmin is already collecting himself and heading towards his own bedroom.

He seems to realize that doing so would require him to pass by Yunho, though, so he stops, caught and confused.

Yunho opens his mouth to clear this up with one straightforward confession, and then the door to their apartment opens.

“We come bearing gifts,” announces Jooyoung-hyung, entirely unaware of just what he’s interrupted, and Changmin practically jumps.

Kyungjae-hyung sticks his head in first, looking between the two of them with wide eyes. “Are you deaf?” he says. “Which one of you is a six-pack-having alpha again?”

Changmin lifts a hand.

“Get your skinny ass out here--we bought a lot.”

“We’re going back to Korea next week,” Changmin mutters, turning regardless.

“Hey, just because I’m not an alpha and love chicken more than six-packs doesn’t mean I’m weak,” Yunho says at almost the same time, and straightens. He walks by Changmin out the door to help with the groceries, and doesn’t so much as react when Changmin comes out after him.

Kyungjae-hyung finally seems to see them, squinting curiously at the disheveled state of them both. “What happened to you?”

Jooyoung-hyung sniffs. “Did we interrupt something?”

“Yeah,” Changmin says dryly, grabbing two bags and hefting them easily. “Yunho-hyung and I were totally watching porn while you were gone.”

Yunho nearly chokes, grabbing his own handful of groceries, and trying not to too obviously meet Changmin’s eyes.

Jooyoung-hyung lifts both hands. “Sorry,” he says.

Kyungjae-hyung just snorts, then pulls a face. “Guys,” he says.

“We were just practicing,” Yunho blurts, still looking hopefully at Changmin.

Changmin finally looks back, tries out a tiny, almost real smile, and then goes back inside the apartment. “Yeah, that,” he says. “You know Hyung.”

There’s the sound of him pulling open the fridge.

“Hyung has the largest boner in the world for dancing.”

 _For you_ , Yunho thinks, and stifles it immediately. “Not as big as the one you have for wine,” he says, going into the apartment himself. “Which is what you were drinking.”

Changmin’s halfway into the fridge already so Yunho just sets his bags down on an empty counter.

“Before Manager-hyungdeul came back.”

Changmin pulls his head out and rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he says, but he’s actually smiling this time.

Yunho grins back, heart treacherously hopeful.  “You shut up,” he says.

Changmin shuts the fridge. “Oh, very mature,” he says.

“Ugh.” Jooyoung-hyung comes into the apartment and then closes the door. “Get a room.”

Changmin rolls his eyes, grins again, and then pulls open the fridge again. “Eggs.”

Yunho hands him the carton after a pause.

His heart, as always, skips two beats.

\--

“Yunho-yah,” Boa says, sounding tired, but having answered the phone anyway. “Why are you calling me? Aren’t you coming home tomorrow--”

“I’m not going to take my pills this spring,” Yunho blurts out before she can finish. In theory, he knows when their flight home is, because they have variety filming immediately following their arrival back in Seoul--some show with Joo Byungjin-hyung, Jungsoo-hyung, Hyukjae, and two of the SNSD girls?--but the thought of trying to produce that flight time right now, and being able to figure out what day it is today, let alone _tomorrow_ \--

It’s too much for Yunho.

Who is, at this point, possibly a little bit drunk.

To be fair, he’s also just finished their first successful tour as a duo, and with three of those shows being at Tokyo Dome no less, so he thinks he’s justified in being more than a little bit intoxicated.

Boa cannot judge him.

Even though that’s kind of what her job has been the past few weeks. Judging people on her new show with YG-hyung or whoever.

Yunho squints, like that will somehow produce him the answer. “Did you say something?”

“You’re drunk,” Boa determines. “Yundol.”

“Boa-yah,” Yunho says. “You are not listening.”

Boa pauses.

Yunho almost wants to congratulate her for actually doing so, but then he gets distracted. “What was I saying?”

“That you were about to go drink a bunch of water and some Pocari Sweat and go to bed?” Boa says.

Yunho frowns. “That doesn’t sound like me,” he says slowly. “That sounds like Changminnie--” He breaks off, face lighting up in a smile when he realizes that’s what he’d been saying. “Changminnie!” he says again.

Changmin looks up across the room almost like a called dog, and Yunho misses Taepoong very suddenly. He’s very quickly distracted by the flush to Changmin’s cheeks, and Changmin is very quickly distracted by the riveting conversation he’d been having with their dancers and tour staff.

“What about Changmin?” Boa says, sounding like she really would rather not know.

“I’m not going to take my pills this month,” Yunho says, because that was what he’d been saying for sure. “For Changminnie.”

There’s a pause, then the sound of shifting fabric. Boa must be sitting up in bed. “Right,” she says. “I thought that’s what you’d said. Can you give me a minute to wrangle Heechul-oppa?’

It takes Yunho longer than he’d like to figure out she means Heechul-hyung, and in that minute, Boa goes and hangs up on him without waiting for an answer.

Yunho squints down at the phone feeling betrayed and worries briefly for his phone bill. This appears to be his Japanese cellphone, and yes, they did just finish their tour and what is one collect call between three very good friends, two of whom are going to give him wonderful and supportive advice, but. His phone bill.

Yunho frowns.

His phone rings.

“Hyung,” Yunho says happily, picking up the phone without even checking caller ID.

For a moment, nobody says anything.

“Hyung?” Yunho pulls the phone away, frowns down at the string of numbers attached--how does three-way calling work again--and then puts it back to his ear. “Heechul-hyung?”

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” Heechul-hyung says finally, voice sounding somehow even more tired than Boa’s. “Yurobbong, hi.”

Yunho bites his lip, trying to figure out if Heechul-hyung has his radio show tomorrow. If he’s ruined the little sleep his Hyung manages to get in between.

“Me? Kid?” Boa sounds like she’s told a particularly good joke, and Yunho’s feeling well and truly left out. “I’d never.”

“He’s in Tokyo,” Heechul-hyung says dryly. “And surrounded by staff. I’ve never known him to get smashed in Japan.”

Yunho pouts. “Hey,” he says. “It’s my party.”

“And mine!” Changmin says, still across the room, still messing around with their tour staff, and also, apparently, eavesdropping.

Someone gives him hell for that immediately following, and he very quickly isn’t paying attention to Yunho anymore.

“And Changminnie’s,” Yunho says anyway, because it’s true.

“Right,” Boa and Heechul-hyung say at the same time.

Yunho pauses. “Did you do that on purpose?” He frowns. “That’s unfair--”

“But what’s this about your pills?” Heechul-hyung interrupts, almost at the same time.

Yunho brightens, glad to talk about things he understands and can be included in. “I’m not going to take them,” he says. “Because Changmin--” He breaks off, covers the phone, and stares over towards Changmin to be sure.

The younger man doesn’t even look back at him. In fact, he looks so unfairly happy and amused by whatever it is Achi-san is saying to him that Yunho for a second wants to get up and sit in his lap or something.

He has the wherewithal not to do so, however, and settles for whispering into the phone: “Changminnie kissed me.”

Heechul-hyung and Boa are silent.

“Oh my God,” Boa says finally.

“I fucking _told_ you,” Heechul-hyung says. “I’m so glad you woke me for this--lemme text Donghae--”

“What does Donghae have to do with anything?” Yunho says, and it’s a pout, and he’s not even ashamed. “Hyung.”

Heechul-hyung makes an odd whining noise. “Right, sorry Yurobbong, you were saying?”

“Changminnie kissed me.” Yunho makes sure to whisper. “So, I’m not going to take my pills.”

There’s another silence, and then what sounds suspiciously like Boa whispering, _‘I told you he was out of his mind_.’

Yunho can’t really hear her very well, so he ignores her. “Isn’t it great?”

“No,” Heechul-hyung says immediately.

“Oppa,” Boa scolds instantly. “Sorry, Yundol--”

“He told me he liked me,” Yunho says, unbothered. “That’s why he was making a big deal every time we did Bibari and Rui.”

There’s another lull.

“The Japanese comedy sketch,” Boa explains. “Avex had them do it to get new fans--”

“Yes, I’m aware of how marketing works,” Heechul-hyung interrupts, tone dry. “But what does that have to do with Yurobbong trying to get pregnant?”

“I’m not trying to get pregnant,” Yunho snaps, and too loudly this time, because Kyungjae-hyung finally looks up from whatever photos he’d been sharing with one of their Japanese Manager-sans with a wide-eyed, worried look on his face.

Changmin doesn’t notice, however, and Yunho tries not to feel too bad about that. He settles for smiling reassuringly over at his manager.

Kyungjae-hyung, if possible, looks even more worried.

Yunho turns around on the couch so that his back is to the lot of them. “I’m not trying to get pregnant,” he says into the phone again, whispering. “I just want to mate with Changdol--”

“Do you think he’s your soulmate?” says Heechul-hyung. “That seems kind of extreme.”

“Weren’t you the one taking bets on being the best man?” protests Boa. “Also, clearly they’re soulmates--hello.”

“Hello,” Yunho agrees, because, well. _Hello_. Why else would he be so in love with Changmin if they weren’t soulmates? If they weren’t fated to be?

“Right.” Heechul-hyung sounds sad almost, and Yunho’s mouth opens despite himself.

“Are you thinking about Han--” he tries to ask, but Boa--thankfully--interrupts.

“Regardless, just because you and Changmin finally got your shit together doesn’t mean you should go off your pills,” she says. “Oppa is right. You’re asking to get pregnant.”

“I am not,” Yunho says, annoyed. “You’re not listening.”

“This is also probably a conversation you should have with Changminnie,” Boa continues, because Heechul-hyung is still silent. “When you’re sober.” She pauses. “When you’re both sober.”

Yunho cranes his head around so that he can look over towards his bandmate and their dancers and concurs.

“Congratulations on dating, by the way,” says Boa.

Yunho almost wants to ask after Heechul-hyung to make sure he hasn’t died.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us.” Boa doesn’t seem concerned, though. She’s also not making any sense.

Yunho frowns. “We’re not dating,” he says. “What are you talking about?”

Boa’s voice does something funny. “I’m sorry, come again?” she says. There’s more fabric rustling noises from her end, and then the click of a lamp turning on.

Yunho for a second worries about how good his hearing is at the moment--they’d just finished their screaming tour at Kyocera dome, for God’s sake; Yunho shouldn’t be this aware--but then Heechul-hyung rejoins the conversation.

“When did you kiss?” the older man asks.

Yunho has to think about that. “April 17th,” he decides. “After Tokyo.”

Heechul-hyung’s voice sounds funny now. “That was a week ago.”

“We haven’t talked about it since,” Yunho says happily. “Changminnie won’t stay in a room alone with me.”

Heechul-hyung’s voice sounds strained. “Oh my _God_ ,” he says. “Look, Yurobbong--”

“I thought you’d be happy for me,” Yunho says, frowning even harder, and after a few seconds of thought, hangs up on both them. He tosses the phone across the couch, watches it fall against the arm and into crease of the pillows, and immediately feels sorry. Maybe he should get up and collect it, or something.

“Yunho-yah?” It’s Kyungjae-hyung, come to stand next to the couch looking mildly concerned.

“It was Boa,” Yunho explains, to assure his manager that he hadn’t been calling anyone controversial. JYJ have changed their numbers, and Yunho outgrew the need to drunk dial them two years ago.

Kyungjae-hyung seems appeased, but also still concerned. “You should probably go to bed.”

“Pocari Sweat,” Yunho agrees, and tries to stand up.

He fails, faceplants into the coffee table, and tries not to look too pleased when Changmin immediately disengages from their dancers to come yell at him while holding what feels like an entire iceberg to the bridge of Yunho’s nose.

“You idiot!” Changmin says, unfairly composed for all the sake they’ve had between them. “We’re filming tomorrow! We haven’t been home in weeks! There’s going to be paparazzi!”

Yunho just grins behind the iceberg and thinks to himself that Boa and Heechul-hyung are being too cautionary. Changminnie loves him. He’s _definitely_ not going to take his pills.

\--

Yunho has two texts messages waiting for him when they land in Seoul.

 _Yurobbong_ , the first reads, from Heechul-hyung. _How’s your head_?

Yunho readjusts the sunglasses he’s got perched across the bridge of his nose and does a cursory glance towards the back of Changmin’s perfect head.

He’s wearing sunglasses indoors as well, but they’re idols and they’ve been bombarded with flashbulbs since they came through the gate, so he doesn’t think too many people can tell it’s because they both got smashed celebrating the end of the tour.

He turns his attention back to his phone.

 _Also, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me Changminnie kissed you_ \--

Yunho has to take a moment because the memory of the night before is coming back to him in stunning, horrible technicolor--

 _\--please, for the love of God, do not flush your medication down the drain_.

Yunho pauses. Oh yeah. That was a thing.

Changmin had woken him this morning in time to make their plane with water and more hangover drink, before vanishing who knows where to return with steaming breakfast and a spring in his step.

He’d been polite on the plane, let Yunho have the aisle seat without complaining about getting cramps in his legs, and smiled beatifically at the flight attendants offering them water.

It had made Yunho wonder if he’d overheard more than he’d let on the night before, blossomed hope into the center of his chest like a particularly aggressive weed, and Yunho can’t help but smile once they’re through the doors and out into the Seoul air.

Their fans are shouting for them, the paparazzi are still taking photos of them, and Yunho takes a deep breath, and puts away his phone.

In the car, he finally texts Heechul-hyung back-- _Hyung, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. I’m not going to throw out my pills--_ Kyungjae-hyung would kill him-- _I’m just not going to take any_.

He gets no response, which Yunho takes as an affirmative, and makes him want to grin even more.

“Why are you so happy?” Changmin says, his own sunglasses already stashed away the moment they got in the car.

“Today’s a good day,” Yunho says.

\--

“Alright, let the record show that I do not support this in the slightest,” Donghae says, the moment he’s come through Yunho’s front door. “But tell me the plan.”

“Hello to you too, Donghae-yah,” Yunho says, not looking up from the game on his iPad. “Did you have a nice flight back from Tokyo?” It’s been three days since Suju landed back from their show in Tokyo, but most Yunho’s just in it to see his friend scowl.

Donghae doesn’t disappoint. “Shut up,” he says. “You’re changing the subject.”

Yunho finishes failing to get his character to make what Changmin would probably consider a particularly easy jump, and clicks the iPad locked. He sets it aside, steeples his hands in front of him, and smiles up at his friend.

Donghae takes one look at him, swears in dialect, and goes straight back out of Yunho and Changmin’s front door.

“Not in the slightest!” the younger omega says, loud enough to be heard through the door, which he hasn’t closed. “I do not support this in the _slightest_ \--

“Yeah, okay, can you come in?” Yunho says. “You’re letting in a draft--”

“You live in an apartment,” Donghae retorts immediately, hauling the door open and striding back in. He kicks his shoes off in almost hindsight, but is still sure to settle them neatly before leaving the hallway.

Yunho rolls his shoulders back and sighs. “Donghae-yah.”

“Look, I’m all for you and Changminnie kissing,” his friend says, pointing vaguely in the direction of Changmin’s room--empty, thankfully, because Kyuhyun and Minho had immediately monopolized his attention the moment they’d both returned from Tokyo and Kobe respectively. “Shit--” Donghae looks immediately sorry.

“He went out,” Yunho says, warmth blooming in his chest.

“Oh, thank God,” Donghae says. “I mean--” His brows furrow.

“You’re all for kissing but…” Yunho prompts before he can say anything.

Donghae allows the conversation change with minimal frowning. “Heat sucks, Yunho-hyung,” Donghae says. “Why the hell would you risk spending it alone--”

“I’m not going to be spending it alone,” Yunho snaps, standing up and crossing the kitchen to go sink down onto their sofa angrily.

“Kyungtae doesn’t count,” Donghae says immediately, entirely unfazed by Yunho’s anger.

Yunho flushes before he can stop himself but doesn’t cross his arms across his chest. “You could be more supportive,” he mutters. “What if it doesn’t take?”

Frank horror splashes itself across Donghae’s face. “Shit, Yunho-hyung,” he says. Dialect rounds his vowels. He crosses the floor as well and comes to sit next to Yunho on the couch. “Sorry.”

Yunho doesn’t look at him, or at his too-high socks (can’t be too careful in this industry, their managers always say) in barely concealed jealousy. “Not your fault,” he says.

“Look.” Donghae appears to be choosing his words carefully, which really was why Yunho’d called him, and not Heechul-hyung, upon the first creepings of what his doctor had assured him was pre-heat. “Hyung.”

“I know you’re only supposed to fall in love with soulmates,” Yunho says, still not looking at Donghae. “And like, the chances of it not taking is like _zero_ , and you and Hyukjae were fine--”

Donghae shifts on the couch a little but lets him finish without interrupting.

“--but weren’t you scared?” Yunho turns to meet Donghae’s concerned, brown eyes. “Before, I mean.” His stomach feels like it’s putting itself in knots, and yeah, he’s been like that since that morning when he woke up to go grocery shopping and Kyungjae-hyung--nice, reliable, _beta_ Kyungjae-hyung--took one sniff at him and told him, frankly, that _he_ would go grocery shopping for him and that he would also be buying Yunho a _physical day planner_ as well as installing every _single_ heat-tracker app on the market onto every single electronic device in the _apartment_ \--including, horrifyingly, _Changmin’s_ cellphone--but--

This feels different.

Yunho feels raw.

“Oh, I was terrified,” Donghae says kindly. He doesn’t seem bothered by however long it took Yunho to work that last train of thought free of his nerves. “You should talk to Heechul-hyung.”

Yunho must make a face.

“Not about that,” Donghae quickly adds. “Just, I was terrified about mating.”

“But it worked out,” Yunho says, trying not to ruminate on the rest of that.

Donghae’s right hand twitches like he wants to pull his pant leg up and show Yunho, and Yunho feels something in him ease a little.

“I don’t need to see direct evidence of Hyukjae’s foot fetish,” he says dryly.

Donghae snorts. “Like you’re not thinking of copying me.”

Yunho’s face shutters closed.

Donghae stops laughing instantly. “Oh shit,” he says. “Have you not thought about it?”

“No, I,” Yunho starts to say, horrified, at the same time the door the apartment opens and Kyuline come stumbling in.

They don’t seem drunk--Minho appears to be laughing hysterically at something Kyuhyun and Changmin have been saying, but Yunho still feels every nerve in his body settle into high alert.

At his side, Donghae winces, and when Yunho looks down, he notices that he’s not actually white knuckling the couch or his own thighs or anything safe like that but has instead somehow got a death grip on Donghae’s left hand. The one the younger man uses for guitar playing and songwriting. Huh. Yunho doesn’t remember when they’d started holding hands.

“Sorry,” Yunho mutters, and tries to pull away.

Donghae doesn’t let him, tightens his own answering grip, and lifts his chin.

Yunho follows the line of his sight to Changmin, standing stock still in the hallway and causing a Kyuline collision course, and barely breathing.

Yunho feels himself follow suit.

“Breathe, Hyung,” he hears Donghae say.

Yunho exhales.

“I call first round,” Kyuhyun says, finally stepping around Changmin and reaching out to drag Minho after him.

That seems to snap Changmin out of it, and he very quickly goes scrambling after his friends without even a look over his shoulder. “Absolutely not--it’s my house--you _losers--_ ”

The apartment feels very quiet in his wake.

Donghae finally releases Yunho’s hand. “You weren’t kidding,” he says.

Yunho shoots him a look.

“About not taking your suppressants,” Donghae says. “I thought maybe you were kidding.”

Which is about the time the door the dorm swings open once more to reveal Kyungjae-hyung, looking supremely annoyed, and carrying several variants of day planners. “In case you lose them,” the man says from around his face mask. “And also, because we’re one of the largest entertainment companies in South Korea and it is _one time a year_ \--I can’t believe you went and took _expired suppressants_ \--”

Yunho turns his attention back to Donghae, crossing his fingers behind himself that his friend won’t ruin the little white-lie he might have told his manager to save face that morning. “You were saying?”

“That I don’t support your decision in the slightest,” his friend says immediately. “But that it’ll all work out, and of course I have your back.”

Yunho grins, pleased. “Thanks, Donghae,” he says. “You’re the best.”

From Changmin’s room, someone shouts: “ _Chwang--that was my hand--_!”

Donghae winces. “Even if your other half might murder me,” he mutters.

Yunho’s heart thrums.

“That reminds me,” says Kyungjae-hyung, seemingly finished with the day planners. He strides across the apartment and vanishes towards the hallways to wrap on Changmin’s door. “Changmin-ah!”

A pause.

“Take your damn pills!”

There’s another pause.

Then, the sound of a door opening, the musical tones of Kyuhyun and Minho’s swearing overtop the background music to Mario Kart, and Changmin’s voice, shouting to be heard. “I already took them!”

Yunho’s mouth parts.

“I’m just making sure!” Kyungjae-hyung sounds annoyed to have to be shouting to be heard over the very aggressive Kyuline video-gaming.

The door squeaks shut, and then Changmin’s voice is less audible but no less annoyed sounding. “Just because Yunho-hyung is an idiot who forgets doesn’t mean I am,” he says. “I took mine last Friday.”

That was before the Dream Concert.

“Before the Dream Concert.”

Changmin nearly ran over all of EXO in his haste to take Yunho’s hand.

“Oh, well, good,” says Kyungjae-hyung.

“You did get Yunho-hyung  some, right?” Changmin continues. “Because you’d have to be scent-blind not to notice that he _stinks_ \--”

And Yunho immediately wishes he couldn’t hear.

Donghae is looking back at him with worry swimming in both eyes. “Yunho-hyung,” he starts to say.

“I realized, I need to finish packing,” Yunho says, feeling very distinctly divorced from his voice.

“Hyung,” Donghae says.

“We don’t have time to go out,” Yunho continues, ignoring him and standing. “You’ll have to get me something in California.”

Donghae stands up as well. “Yunho-hyung,” he says.

Yunho ignores him. “Low grade ones,” he says. “The ones that kick it before it can really even start--”

“Those are risky,” Donghae says. “You’re not supposed to have sex for forty-eight hours after.”

“I’m not going to be having sex period,” Yunho snaps, annoyed, and gestures towards the hallway anyway. “Clearly.”

Donghae’s mouth snaps shut.

Kyungjae-hyung and Changmin appear to have finished speaking, but his manager is thankfully either loitering around the bedrooms or gone to the bathroom.

Yunho doesn’t have time to think about it. “And I can’t be seen going at all,” he says. _You can_ , he doesn’t say. _You’re mated and everybody already knows you’re an omega so it’s_ fine.

Something of that definitely shows on his face anyway. Donghae sighs. “Fine,” he says. “After we land. But you’re explaining to Hyukjae if they see me.”

Yunho reaches out to hug him quickly. “Thank you.”

Donghae returns the hug, shoulders tight. “Yunho-hyung.”

“You should probably be getting home, anyway,” Yunho says. “It’s late, and they’re going to want us for photos.”

Donghae shoots him another long, searching look, before sighing. “You sure you’re alright?”

Yunho tries out a laugh, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “I’m _fine_ , Donghae-yah, promise,” he says.

Donghae looks less than convinced but goes to gather his shoes anyway. “You sure you don’t want me to stay or anything?”

Yunho would snap at him, but Donghae of all people understands. He’s not far enough into pre-heat to be interested in anyone so much as touching him, but when he is--when he starts climbing the walls, it’s going to take all of his self-control not to go knocking on Changmin’s door.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Yunho lies.

Donghae goes.

Yunho tightens his hands into fists and heads for his own bedroom.

He doesn’t pass his manager on the way, Changmin and Kyuhyun and Minho don’t seem to have even heard _anything_ from the way they’re still swearing loudly over top each other, and Yunho totally doesn’t feel anything as he beelines to his bedside, pulls out the box he keeps Kyungtae in, and very pointedly goes over to set the dildo on the topmost layer of his suitcase.

Fuck customs, fuck propriety, and most of all, fuck Shim Changmin.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY COMEBACK START EVERYONE. BE SURE TO TWEET WITH THE HASHTAGS: #동방신기 #RETURN_OF_THE_KING #THE_CHANCE_OF_LOVE
> 
> STREAM THE LOVE LINE TEASERS ON NAVER. WATCH I LIVE ALONE. 
> 
> Ways to earn my love and have input into when I post  
> 1) retweets/reblogs  
> 2) comments  
> 3) kudos
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/172166007590/title-my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/977132587738165248)


	10. boil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Hexmen and Kinah. All other mistakes are my own.
> 
> HAPPY COMEBACK EVERYONE.
> 
>  **UPDATE:** I FORGOT TO SAY I’m writing and planning a sequel OTL

**10\. Boil**

\--

Yunho’s life is hell. He wakes up the morning of May 18th with the painful awareness that he’s well and truly moved out of fake pre-heat and into actual pre-heat. Or, at the least, he’s moved out of the stage that their managers tended to call _pre-_ pre-heat and the general public tended to call ‘playing hard to get.’ His skin feels a little warm, his heart rate feels a little higher, and instead of wanting to roll his eyes and ignore all the various offers for shoulder rubs or whatever, Yunho actually finds himself inclined to pay attention to certain members of their staff.

Myunghwan-hyung, for starters, while perfectly, happily straight, is also an alpha, and if the man wanted to offer Yunho unnecessary piggyback rides to the van this morning, Yunho would totally take him up on it. He’s actually entertaining the thought of accepting whatever health-nut travesty Jooyoung-hyung procures for Changmin every morning, and that in itself is enough to have Yunho silencing his phone alarm and calling Donghae.

“Are you wet?” his friend says, and really, he deserves Yunho hanging up on him.

 _Fucker_ , Yunho texts him.

Instead of replying, Donghae calls him back.

Yunho lets it go to voicemail.

Donghae is not deterred.

“No, you asshole,” Yunho says finally, when he’s forced to give in and pick up the phone. His left eye feels like it might be twitching, and yeah, he did actually have to think about it and lift his hips to fucking check, but he’s not about to tell Donghae that. “What kind of inappropriate question--”

“Important,” Donghae says. “What kind of _important_ question--”

“It is five a.m.,” Yunho snaps. “Last I checked, we were not phone sex buddies--”

“You called me,” Donghae says. “And also, Yunho-hyung, I hate to break this to you, but I would absolutely not start phone sex by asking if the other party was wet.”

Yunho has to work to digest that for a few terrible seconds. “Gross, Donghae--” he starts to say.

“That’s true,” says Hyukjae’s voice, disembodied and startling because Yunho had definitely only called Donghae. “I can vouch for that.”

Yunho is forced to digest that for a few more terrible seconds. “Gross, _Donghae_ ,” he says.

“What, it’s the truth,” his friend says, unbothered. “Also, you called me--”

“I want Jooyoung-hyung to give me Changmin’s godawful smoothies,” Yunho interrupts, before the conversation can be  derailed in the name of how utterly fucking _married_ his friends are.

There’s a beat.

Yunho plays that sentence back in his head a few times. His cheeks blaze. “ _Gross!_ Donghae!” he says, for the _third_ time and pulls the phone away from his ear so that he can sit up a little bit in bed.

“What!” Donghae sounds like he’d like to be raising both hands. “You’re the one who said it--”

“I meant actual smoothies!” Yunho snaps, still blushing, but pointedly refusing to acknowledge the fact. “And also!” He breaks off, eyes darting around the room and a hand coming up to cup the phone. “Why the _fuck_ would I have a threesome with Changmin and his _manager_ \--”

“Are you actually covering the phone right now?” says Donghae. “Hyung, we’re talking about your heat--”

“Jooyoung-hyung isn’t bad looking for a manager-hyung, though,” interjects Hyukjae at basically the same time, and then there’s a thud, an oof-ing noise, and Yunho gets the distinct feeling that someone’s been pushed out of bed.

“Sorry for that,” Donghae says. “I don’t know why I married him.”

“You didn’t actually marry me,” Hyukjae’s voice says dryly, but it definitely sounds farther away, so he definitely _did_ get pushed out of bed. “Technically, you only _mated_ me--”

“Yeah, well, same difference,” says Donghae. “Semantics.” He sounds honestly amused.

Yunho’s mouth turns down at the corners regardless. “Donghae-yah,” he says, only--tragically--it’s a whine. It’s unfair that Donghae gets to cuddle and sleep with Hyukjae when all Yunho has is a stuffed deer someone bought him as a joke more than five years ago and a sparkly purple dildo his asshole best friends named Kyungtae. It’s unfair that Donghae could, if he wanted, get someone to fuck him and cuddle him and give him fucking _babies_.

Because that’s what this means. This whole, no longer wanting to bite the hands off anyone who was touchier than usual thing. It means that what Yunho really would like is for Changmin to come swearing into his room to _own_ him; it means his body is ready to give someone _babies_ , and Yunho _loves_ children.

Life is really un-fucking-fair.

Donghae has started swearing into the phone. “Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, sorry--Yunho-hyung--”

“Why doesn’t Changminnie want to give me babies, Hae-yah?” Yunho says miserably, and wow, that’s his voice. He sounds like he’s been out doing late night karaoke or something. He also, unfortunately, is doing a horrible job at masking the jealousy taking root in the center of his chest.

“Wow, you really _weren’t_ kidding,” Donghae mumbles again--but Yunho is too busy immediately regretting his entire life.

“Fuck,” he says, swearing himself now. “Fuck--can we pretend I never said that?”

“Please,” says Hyukjae voice, still far away, and this time Yunho definitely gets to listen to Donghae throwing him out to the wolves living on his dorm floor.

“Look, Yunho-hyung,” Donghae says. “Clearly, the pre-heat has passed.”

Yunho rolls the conversation back a few seconds and closes his eyes. “Clearly,” he says, voice tight.

“Call Manager-hyung.” Donghae’s voice has taken on a soothing, calming tone. “Tell him to get you scent blockers. Take a shower.”

Yunho whines a little in the back of his throat; the thought of communing with the outside world, let alone having to walk by Changmin’s room to get to the bathroom to shower is rapidly becoming too much for him.

“Rub one out,” Donghae continues.

Yunho makes a face.

“Take Kyungtae.”

Yunho makes a _worse_ face.

“Take a pill--”

“That could make things worse,” Yunho puts in, because he’d done the research. Once he’d finished being livid that Changmin had said that--that Changmin had fucking taken his suppressants without even the decency to consult with Yunho, who he supposedly claimed to love (he didn’t; he just said he liked you; who could love you when he could have every beautiful omega in the world)--he’d immediately gone to Naver and Google with questions about the logistics of taking high grade suppressants when already suffering from pre-heat.

The conclusion: don’t do it. Grit your teeth, own the fact that most of the population really does understand and won’t judge, and get yourself to the nearest pharmacy for low grade ovulation inducers. Of course, the catch is that Yunho can’t be seen at a pharmacy buying low grade ovulation inducers.

Yunho wants to swear under his breath.

“Yunho-hyung.”  Donghae seems to have been saying something, but Yunho very clearly has missed all of it, so his friend sighs instead. “Look, they’re probably going to bathe you in scent blockers anyway, and once we’re in Los Angeles I promise to risk my career and reputation to buy you morning after pills.”

Yunho makes another terrible face.

“Donghae, sweetheart,” says Hyukjae, clearly back from being near-murdered by the rest of the band. “Those are not the same things.”

“I’m going to go throw up now,” Yunho says, which isn’t, ‘ _Why won’t anyone call_ me _sweetheart_?’ so he’s counting it as a win. “See you at Incheon.”

“Don’t drown,” Donghae says. “And really. Take Kyungtae--”

“I can’t believe you named the dildo,” Hyukjae says.

“I can’t believe he _let me_ name the didlo,” Donghae says.

“I’m going to go _throw up now_!” Yunho says again and disconnects the call. He lets the phone drop pointedly into the center of his chest.  

The thing buzzes. Yunho picks it up.

 _Yunho-hyung, I understand your hormones really want you to get pregnant, but it’s far too early for morning sickness_ , Donghae’s said.

 _You’re a rat bastard_ , Yunho types back immediately. _We are no longer friends_.

 _Lol_ , Donghae replies. _Love you too_. He sends a few more kieuks. _Now shower_. _It’ll help, honestly_.

Yunho sighs. He’s probably right.

Unfortunately, Yunho’s feeling absolutely zero motivation to do much of anything at the moment. He sighs again. Then he steels himself, takes a deep breath, and presses the speed dial for Kyungjae-hyung.

“I will put a heat-tracker app on _Changmin’s_ phone,” his manager says when Yunho’s finished explaining he needs scent blockers, but he also makes a note not to get Yunho anything smelling of artificial flowers.

\--

One shower sans Kyungtae later, Yunho arrives to their kitchen to find Kyungjae-hyung and several of their staff members standing threateningly in front of the refrigerator holding metal canisters. They look like a firing squad, and for a second Yunho would rather like to just go back and lock himself in his room.

Immediately he tamps that urge down, because he’s a professional, SM Town LA is a huge deal, as is the Music Wave concert, and because all he has to do is survive the eleven-hour flight before they’re in a foreign country where Donghae will be less likely to be recognized buying him suppressants. Arguably, if he just owned up to his idiocy, he could have suppressants before the eleven-hour flight, and nobody would be none the wiser.

But then Yunho would have to admit to them why he’d done it, and the thought of that, frankly, is worse than eleven hours fighting off heat.

So Yunho manages a smile.

“Hyung,” he says. “Noonas.” The staff Kyungjae-hyung have brought are all betas--save Myunghwan-hyung, who Yunho finally notices when he turns his attention towards Changmin.

His bandmate looks still half asleep, sitting penned in behind Myunghwan-hyung staring dazedly down into a bowl of what looks like cereal.

How American, Yunho thinks.

“Don’t say anything,” Kyungjae-hyung says, expression pinched, and before Yunho can so much as breathe, the other two staff in the room stride forward brandishing the canisters.

Yunho has the foresight to shut his eyes and not inhale too strenuously.

Clearly, the rest of the room does not.

“Oh, great,” Changmin says finally, at last sounding and looking a little more alive.

Yunho blinks one eye open, wincing, and flaps a hand in front of his mouth. “I cannot breathe,” he says.

“Can you smell him?” Kyungjae-hyung barks, unconcerned.

He’s addressing Changmin, clearly, because after a pause, there’s a yelp as Myunghwan-hyung sets a hand on his shoulder and pinches--

“Yes--I mean--no, I can’t smell a damn thing,” Changmin snaps, pulling away from their bodyguard’s grip with narrowed, much more awake eyes. “Warn a guy,” he mutters, rubbing at his shoulder, before turning back towards Yunho.

Yunho’s heart does a terrible, terrible thing.

He lets his nails sink deep into the palms of his hands.

Changmin’s brow furrows. “I don’t smell anything, actually,” he says slowly. “That’s fucking weird.” He shovels some cereal into his mouth before he can say more, eyes darting nervously between the staff in the room.

Yunho wonders for a second what he was going to say--before the aerosol bath, he could have sworn he could tell one of their cordis was ovulating--but very quickly nixes the train of thought in favor of pulling air into his own lungs.

“I can’t either,” he says finally. “Are you sure that’s not going to be a red flag?”

“It’s SM Town,” Jooyoung-hyung says, handing Changmin the damned aforementioned smoothie without a pause and making Yunho jump with the suddenness of his appearance behind them. “And Incheon. Nobody will be able to smell anything, let alone tell.”

Yunho opens his mouth, smells nothing, and frowns.

Changmin takes a great gulp of his health drink. “Yeah, that tasted fine,” he says, frowning. “It’s fucking weird.”

“Necessary,” Kyungjae-hyung says. “Now eat.”

\--

By the time they’re arriving at Incheon, Yunho is very rapidly beginning to see the error in his ways. Yes, not telling Manager-hyung that he actually _had_ skipped a round of suppressants, so he really _could_ use some ovulation inducers means that Yunho has been saved the embarrassment of explaining why he decided to skip said round of suppressants, but it also means that when the inklings of overheating start up in the car--Myunghwan-hyung makes an odd face; Coordi-noona douses Yunho again--Yunho can’t say anything without risking a scene.

And certainly not without Changmin overhearing, because Changmin is as trapped in the car as Yunho.

“Yunho-yah.” Kyungjae-hyung sounds exhausted. “Just how expired _are_ they?”

Yunho has no idea what to say. He’s not the one who buys them, usually, which sounds bad--he was nearly poisoned to death; he’s not an idiot--but it’s really just because it’s easier to let Changmin buy everything in bulk online, or force his manager to get them. Besides, people are much less likely to notice anything amiss if an idol is out buying all types of birth control.

This does mean that at this moment, Yunho has to tread carefully. Changmin’s been pretty silent most of the car ride so far, but Yunho wouldn’t put it past the younger man to have a running tally of whatever the fuck he bought whenever the fuck.

Yunho tries a smile. “A couple of months?” he says. It sounds like a question. It is a question, but Yunho isn’t going to fucking let on to that if possible. “Sorry, Hyung. I’ll try to do better.”

“Uh huh.” Kyungjae-hyung looks unimpressed.

Changmin lifts his head away from the car window and shoots Yunho an odd look.

Yunho feels his smile slip a little. “Thank you for the day planners,” he says.

Kyungjae-hyung snorts, but keeps talking anyway, something about the latest trainee gossip and what to expect when in Los Angeles.

Yunho tunes him out, relieved, and settles back into his seat.

Changmin is still staring at him.

Yunho almost wants to say something.

He settles for ignoring it, even as the younger man exhales, then inhales, and then parts his lips slightly.

“Anyway, don’t do it again,” Kyungjae-hyung mutters, returning back to Yunho clearly, and Myunghwan-hyung gestures for Coordi-noona to douse Yunho one more time. “The airport is going to be crazy enough as it is.”

“Yes, Hyung,” Yunho says, coughing and dipping his head in acknowledgement. He is absolutely never doing this ever again.

That seems to appease Kyungjae-hyung, who turns back around to face the front. “How long is our flight?”

Yunho tunes out the rest of the conversation in favor of deep breaths and trying to do a running calculation of just exactly when his body went from ‘ _I couldn’t give less fucks about you being into me_ ’ to ‘ _yes, I know I’m hot, but what can you do for me?_ ’ That’s enough to keep Yunho occupied until they reach the terminal, because Changmin’s goddamned existence makes determining anything incredibly hard.

Which… is sort of the problem to _begin with_ , so Yunho ends up even more pissed off.

The car slows.

Changmin’s phone Kakaos. “Minho’s here,” he says helpfully. “SHINee is on the same flight.”

“We’re all on the same flight,” points out Yunho. His voice is only slightly raspy.

Myunghwan-hyung and Changmin exchange a quick look.

“Douse him again,” they chorus.

Yunho has absolutely zero time to do more than close his eyes and mouth mid-spritz so that he doesn’t die before they can so much as leave the country.

The car lapses into silence.

“Oh my God,” Coordi-noona says, sounding choked.

“Fuck you,” Yunho agrees, and then winces, because some rapidly growing part of him had voted a wholehearted _yes_ to that sentiment and was all in favor of locking everyone out of the car and fucking sitting Changmin into submission. Or into knotting.

Kyungjae-hyung gets out of the front seat.

Yunho breathes.

\--

Changmin corners Yunho once they’ve finished going through customs and are en route through Incheon in search of their gate. The fan-crowd has dwindled by virtue of them moving further into the airport, but as always there are those of them who’ve purchased tickets and those of them who are in fact flying places.

Yunho had found himself stuck between Kyungjae-hyung and one of SHINee’s managers with Changmin nowhere in sight. He’d been angrily cursing out Minho--and immediately feeling bad for doing that while also worrying he would have to own up to his stupidity to Kyungjae-hyung in a fucking airport bathroom because the plane was going to kill him (and anyone who touched Changmin)--when his bandmate appears out of nowhere and starts breathing down his neck.

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says, and Yunho nearly has a heart attack. “Why didn’t you take your suppressants?”

“Changmin-ah.” Yunho is thankful he’s managed not to clasp a hand to his chest like an idiot. “Don’t do that.”

“Why?” Changmin’s voice sounds ugly. “Does it affect you?”

They both know exactly what he means.

Yunho fights the urge to turn around and slap him. “We are in public,” he settles for. “Also, you’re a dick.”

Changmin’s breath ghosts over the back of Yunho’s neck again.

“Don’t you dare,” Yunho grits out. “Don’t you _fucking_ dare.”

Changmin speeds up so they’re shoulder to shoulder, both hands raised placatingly, even though the fact that they’ve both still got their sunglasses on means that neither of them can see the other’s eyes.

There’s no way for Yunho to know if he means it.

“I’m just asking,” says Changmin. “I’m not going to tell anyone in LA about it.”

Yunho’s mouth pulls down into almost a grimace. “It won’t matter once we’re in LA,” he says. “Donghae’s going to get me some suppressants.”

Changmin pauses long enough to blink. “You could just tell Manager-hyung,” he says pragmatically. “They even sell them here.” He points helpfully towards one of the kiosks as they go by it, helpfully advertising gum, books, and a whole assortment of medication from anti-nausea pills to low grade ovulation inducers.

“No thank you,” Yunho says, feeling a headache coming on. Maybe he should stop for a painkiller. “But you should probably sit far away on the plane just in case.”

Changmin speaks almost at the same time. “Really, Hyung, tell them. Nobody is going to make fun of you, like. I’m sure whoever it is is an idiot.”

Yunho almost stops mid-trek through the airport, jaw going slack. They’re nearly to the gate now--and somehow Yunho hadn’t registered just how many twists and turns they’d made--but SHINee has kept up a steady stream of conversation and teasing, which means no one has noticed nor commented on Yunho and Changmin.

If he stopped, they would.

Yunho manages to keep walking.

“Yunho-hyung?” Changmin’s voice sounds earnestly curious and Yunho’s never been more thankful their careers give them an _excuse_ to have not taken off their sunglasses indoors.

“ _Whoever_ it is?” Yunho over enunciates.

Changmin doesn’t seem to pick up on the mood. If anything, he sounds annoyed to be asked to continue the conversation. “Well, you had to have stopped taking them for _someone_ ,” he mutters, still pragmatic even as his words stab their way in between Yunho’s ribs. “And clearly they didn’t--” Changmin breaks off finally, very uncomfortable sounding.

Yunho’s headache goes from nagging to raging in about two seconds flat.  “Clearly they haven’t knotted me, you mean,” he says nastily, voice raising almost worryingly and making Jooyoung-hyung finally turn to look back at them. “Because that’s the only logical explanation,” Yunho continues, aware in the back of his less instinct-driven brain that he’s making absolutely no sense. “Isn’t it, Changmin--”

“Yunho-hyung!” Donghae arrives suddenly in front of Yunho with too bright eyes. “It’s so good to see you--Changmin--” He bows. “Listen, I need to use the bathroom, and you know how omegas are--thanks for understanding, Changminnie--Manager-hyung!”

Donghae’s manager arrives as summoned with a long suffering sigh--“I have a name.”--but peels off with Yunho and Donghae anyway.

Yunho glances over his shoulder because he can’t help himself, and almost wants to laugh at the blatantly dumbstruck expression on Changmin’s face. Then he irrationally wants to murder Kyuhyun for immediately stepping in to take his position.

“I don’t actually need to piss,” Donghae says, still holding onto Yunho’s arm--when had that happened? Where are they going? “And I know people don’t say that about omegas and bathrooms, but I panicked,” Donghae finishes. “Did you see Changminnie’s face?”

Yunho rolls that sentence around in his brain a few times like a kitten untangling yarn. “Are you well?” he says finally. “What--”

“You were about thirty seconds from shouting at Changminnie about his knot,” Donghae says. “You’re welcome.”

Yunho rewinds his and Changmin’s conversation alongside the tangled mess of Donghae’s last two sentences, and winces. “Fuck,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” Donghae repeats, and pulls them abruptly to a halt outside of a bathroom. When Yunho blinks at him, he nods his head. “Water fountain.” He frowns. “Or should we go inside to be more secretive?”

Yunho’s still blinking, only, he realizes suddenly he’s still got his sunglasses on. He goes to push them up his forehead.

Donghae reaches out to stop that. “You don’t want to do that,” Yunho’s friend says. “Not until you’ve had these.” He gestures gleefully for his manager, who steps forwards with Donghae’s carry-on sighing.

A group of fans squeal, finally noticing it might be U Know Yunho _and_ Super Junior’s Donghae.

Donghae purses his lips. He pulls Yunho into the bathroom with a hand on his arm.

For some reason, all Yunho wants is Donghae’s hand _off_ and to go right back out to smile at the fans. “Hey. What the fuck?” he says, pulling free.

“One of those fans is an alpha,” Donghae says straightforwardly, at the same time his manager finishes confirming they’re blessedly alone in the bathroom. “You’re nearly out of pre-heat.”

Yunho’s immediate thought is to grab his own ass to check for leakage, which makes zero sense and has his fingers flexing reflexively in horror. “I’m not going to survive eleven hours”

“I mean, you did somehow manage forty-eight,” Donghae tries to say.

“I’m in love with Changminnie,” Yunho says. “I’m not going to survive eleven hours.”

“I mean, you were actually in love with Changminnie when you managed forty-eight,” says Donghae.

“Changmin,” Yunho interrupts to correct, something terribly possessive snarling his chest.

Donghae’s mouth falls open soundless and his eyes twinkle. “You know I’m taken, right?” he says, and then frowns. “Do not take that--”

“That is my name,” Yunho says, pleased.

“I was _speaking Korean_!” Donghae whines.

“Doesn’t matter.” Yunho is glad to no longer be angry.

Donghae snorts. “Anyway, you’re right.” He smirks. “Which is why you owe me.”

And then he goes for the bag his manager is holding and produces another smaller bag. From that, he pulls out a still sealed bottle of what Yunho instantly recognizes as low grade suppressants. “I made Hyung do it,” he explains, breaking the seal on the bottle. He gestures Yunho forward, feeling like the cat that got the canary. “Cause I couldn’t risk doing it, clearly.” He hands Yunho a pill, and then after a pause, sighs. “This is why we needed the water fountain--”

Yunho plops the pill on the back of his tongue and swallows it dry. “Thank you,” he tells Donghae. “And thank you,” he addresses Donghae’s manager.

The bathroom door opens and a man rounds the corner with an confused expression, which clears slightly when he catches sight of them. His mouth opens, and Yunho bows quickly.

He reaches for Donghae. “I owe you.” Yunho stops to take a few quick gulps at the water fountain.

“Explain it to Hyukjae.”

Yunho snorts. “It’s kind of you to assume I successfully blocked out the two of you phoning me this morning.”

“You called us,” says Donghae. “We should rush.”

Yunho opens his mouth.

Their flight announces boarding.

All three of their phones start ringing.

“Fuck,” says Donghae’s manager.

“I can still see the gate,” Yunho points out, but hurries after the both of them anyway.

Changmin catches him just before they have to hand over their tickets, and stares between Yunho and Donghae with narrowed eyes.

“What were you doing?” he says, suspicious sounding even as Kyuhyun elbows him pointedly in the side.

“None of your business,” Yunho says politely, suddenly realizing he doesn’t feel quite so overheated anymore, and shoots Donghae a relieved, thankful look.

His friend doesn’t notice because he’s immediately been distracted frolicking with his group members, but Changmin still steps into Yunho’s line of sight.

“Yunho-hyung,” he says.

“It really isn’t your business,” says Yunho, stepping around him to show the woman his ticket with an attempted smile.

Changmin follows suit without even bothering with one, and keeps coming after Yunho. “It is, actually,” he starts to say.

Yunho turns on him in the middle of the hall to the plane, lifting his sunglasses off his face finally. “Why, because you’re an alpha?” he snaps. “Because that’s kind of the problem, actually.” He makes a face, then parrots his earlier words back at Changmin. “You should probably sit far away on the plane.”

Changmin’s mouth snaps shut.

Kyuhyun pulls his lips back on a wince.

Yunho thinks, well, _shit_ , guess the pills weren’t all that instantaneous after all.

“Look, Chwang, let it go--”

“Fuck you!” Changmin says.  

“Right, okay, you’ll thank me for this later,” Kyuhyun says. He grabs Changmin by the arm. “Yunho-hyung.” Kyuhyun bows, still muttering under his breath towards Changmin, before hauling the man off towards the plane.

Yunho stares after the two of them for too-long of a moment, honestly taken aback.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” asks Kyungjae-hyung suddenly, scaring the shit out of Yunho.

“Hyung!” Yunho gasps, heart pounding.

“Never mind,” says his manager, moving around Yunho. “But for my sake, please tell me you’re handling it.”

Yunho blinks, still not all the way settled, but follows the man anyway. “Um,” he says slowly. “Donghae got me suppressants?”

Kyungjae-hyung purses his lips and nods his head. “Right,” he says. “Yunho-yah.”

Yunho lifts his head and lets his lower lip jut out ever so slightly. “Honestly, I’m already feeling like enough of an idiot without you rubbing it in,” he says, stepping carefully the rest of the way through the tunnel and starting to walk his way through the rows of seats.

The flight attendants smile at him as he goes.

He finds Changmin at a window seat, sunglasses off and eyes pinched. He stops, cornered. “Yah, what did I say?”

“Sit down,” Kyungjae-hyung says. “Behave.”

Yunho scowls but sits.

“We’re not dogs,” Changmin mutters. He looks quickly towards Yunho conspiratorially, and even though Yunho had in fact been thinking that, he ignores the other man.

When one of their staff wanders by for a Facebook photo-op, Yunho keeps his sunglasses on, keep his bag in his lap as protection and barely smiles.

He and Changmin don’t speak for the entire flight.

\--

Of course, he and Changmin are sharing a room. Sometimes SM will splurge for the seniors, but this is SM Town, and they’d already had enough trouble ensuring that there were no fans on their floors in the Hyatt anyway. Besides, he and Changmin don’t mind taking doubles instead of queens, especially given they’ll be in them less than out of them, what with both concerts and rehearsals and the impromptu Disneyland trip Yunho’s overheard EXO planning.

Yunho claims the bed closest to the door immediately, not even listening when Changmin starts protesting.

“I don’t want to wake you,” Changmin says, because rightly so--he will probably be the one leaving the earliest and coming back the latest, but that was why Yunho had chosen it in the first place, because he’s still fucking heat-crazy and part of him was livid Changmin was going to Disneyland with fucking everyone but him.

Jooyoung-hyung, on the other end of the trolley carrying their suitcases, seems to realize this, and also seems to somehow clue Changmin into it.

Changmin pauses, hefts his suitcase out onto the floor, and scowls. “Oh, gross, Yunho-hyung.” He looks immediately apologetic, but Yunho doesn’t care.

He folds both feet underneath him on the bed, smiles perfectly towards Changmin’s manager, and says, “Thank you, Jooyoung-hyung.”

Changmin’s mouth thins. “Ugh,” he says. “Did you pack hand sanitizer? I need some for my _eyes_ \--” He reaches for the zip on what Yunho and Jooyoung-hyung both simultaneously realize is Yunho’s suitcase.

Jooyoung-hyung opens his mouth, Yunho narrows his eyes, and Changmin pulls the suitcase open without his manager ever stopping him.

There is a resounding silence.

Yunho fights the urge to hum. That would be unnecessary and childish and beneath him.

“SM doesn’t pay me enough for this,” says Jooyoung-hyung. He stands, bows, and leaves.

There is even more resounding silence.

“That’s my suitcase,” Yunho informs Changmin pleasantly, trying to be helpful.

“I noticed,” Changmin manages, voice broken.

In the suitcase, perfectly nestled on top of all the clothes Yunho had in fact folded and packed neatly, Kyungtae sparkles.

Changmin’s left eye twitches.

Yunho’s stomach fills with butterflies.

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says.

“Weren’t you going out?” Yunho asks. “To meet Kyuline?”

“We’re going to Disneyland tomorrow,” Changmin replies automatically, then frowns. “Hyung.”

“You should meet Kyuline,” Yunho says, unfolding himself a little. “Tonight,” he adds, stretching both hands back behind his head.

Changmin’s mouth falls open and his eyes follow the pull of Yunho’s sweatshirt as it goes up ever so slightly.

“Now, Changmin-ah,” Yunho says, for good measure, and to watch color streak it’s way itself along Changmin’s cheekbones.

Changmin leaves.

Yunho flops back against the pillows, yawns, and naps.

\--

Yunho comes half awake what feels like centuries later to the sound of the hotel room door opening, and the hushed sound of voices.

It’s Changmin, Kyuhyun, and Minho, and they’re whispering.

Yunho catches snatches of conversation--

“I can’t believe it’s purple--”

“You’re the one who fucking _bought it_ \--”

“Did Yunho-hyung like the size of it? I really did try my best and Taeminnie said--”

“I’m not going to ask him to fucking _review_ it--”

“It’s _really_ fucking purple--”

“Don’t you _dare_ touch it--”

\--And turns over, mumbling. “Changdol?” Somehow he’s kicked his pants off in the night, left only in boxers and the sweatshirt. His eyes feel crusty. When he rubs them, the sweatshirt rides up.

Yunho yawns.

The voices taper out, then return in a crescendo.

“Alright, bye, Chwang, see you tomorrow for Disney don’t sleep in--”

“Junmyeon wants to get breakfast with you--I told you I’d tell him--”

“Bye now, good talk--”

\--and then there’s footsteps and the slam of the door.

“Traitors,” Changmin hisses into the silence. Then he addresses Yunho. “Yes, Hyung?”

“I didn’t use the dildo,” Yunho says, slurring and not at all awake but feeling so much less heat-crazy that telling Changmin seems logical. Also, Kyungtae might be on the bed with him. He’s not entirely sure when and how that happened but clearly it did.

Changmin makes a punched-out sort of noise but maintains his composure barely. “Have you eaten?” His voice is only slightly squeaking.

Like clockwork, Yunho’s stomach grumbles.

Changmin sighs. “Yunho-hyung,” he scolds, but sounds fond.

When Yunho finally blinks open his eyes, it’s to find his bandmate staring down at him, also looking fond. His bangs are falling in his eyes. His lips are probably too dry.

“I love you,” Yunho sighs.

Changmin’s expression falters. “Hyung,” he says. He sounds panicked and broken and lost.

Yunho swallows his own saliva to regain control of himself. “I mean, your mind,” he blurts out somewhat desperately. “I love your mind.” He sits up to start rubbing at his terrible bedhead. There’s what feels like the impression of a pillow on his left cheek, and now that he’s upright, he can very clearly see that he did in fact curl up with Kyungtae.

Which reminds Yunho: he’s pissed off at Changmin.

He looks the man in the eye.

Changmin’s expression dims. “Oh,” he says. “You’re still mad.”

Yunho’s not, but he should be. “And you’re still tactless,” he says. He reaches for Kyungtae.

Changmin’s eyes bulge.

Yunho had been reaching so he could toss the thing back in his suitcase, but looking at Changmin now, something vicious and ugly claws awake in his chest. It’s probably the hormones, probably his body rebelling against the suppressants and furious that it’d come _this close_ to mating and Changmin and babies and is grasping for the first thing it finds to be angry about.

Changmin not wanting him is easy and accessible and painful.

Yunho reaches for the hem of his sweatshirt. “Get out,” he says again.

Changmin’s mouth opens.

“I’m changing,” Yunho says. “For dinner.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen,” Changmin says, eyes still wild.

“Fine then,” Yunho says, calling his bluff. He pulls the sweatshirt off. All he has on under it is an undershirt.

Changmin’s nostrils flare. He looks dumbstruck.

Yunho stares him down. And down. And down. If this were a cartoon, Changmin would be sweating. As it stands, Changmin… stands.

“I’m just going to--bathroom,” the younger man says, and for lack of a better term, scurries.

Yunho watches him go, heaves a long sigh, and looks sorrowfully down at his own chest. “One day someone will love you for who you are,” he says, which in hindsight makes _absolutely_ no sense, and then when Changmin makes a hysterical squawking noise--he hadn’t scurried fast enough; Yunho want the ground to swallow him fucking whole--slaps both hands over top of his nipples _immediately_.

“Changmin-ah!” Yunho shrieks, embarrassed.

Changmin nearly brains himself in his haste to actually enter the bathroom. “Sorry!” he shouts back, voice high.

Yunho holds just holds his chest and breathes.

“I’m going to kill Lee Donghae,” he says.

\--

“Those are literally just heat side effects!” says Donghae, voice raised to be heard through his door.

He refused to open it when Yunho came knocking, and Yunho is very quickly realizing that he can’t stay in the hallway for much longer. Two housekeeping staff have passed him, one a shy looking beta man and another an elderly omega woman, and Yunho is apparently still enough in heat to have sniffed out both of their designations, and to have been noticeable to the older woman, whose disapproving look was still striking shame into Yunho’s heart.

“Lee Donghae!” Yunho raps on the door three more times. “Open this door!” 

“Look, just sleep it off and stay hydrated!” says Donghae, still not opening the door. “Maybe sexile Changmin!” He pauses. “Is it still sexiling if you’re not having sex?”

Yunho shuts his eyes.

“Dildo… exile… dildile?” Donghae is speaking again, if Yunho can call it that. “Whatever. Just lock Changmin out of the room and then stay inside all of tomorrow and kill it at SM Town!”

Yunho opens his eyes. “And what am I supposed to tell Changmin?” he says, feeling about two seconds from breaking down Donghae’s door. SM is rich enough. They could afford it.

“I don’t know!” Donghae sounds like he can tell Yunho is considering property damage.

Yunho figures he might need _more_ scent blockers. He’s already changed into sweatpants to stave off the unfortunate never-ending boner, but maybe he really should _bathe_ in the stuff.

“Tell him whatever!” Although Donghae doesn’t actually seem that deterred by Yunho’s rage, so maybe it’s not that bad. Though conversely, the door stays pointedly closed. “Look, for your own good, he just should not sleep with you at all,” says Donghae.

There’s a beat.

Yunho’s mouth opens.

Donghae’s door also finally opens. “Don’t you dare,” the younger omega hisses. “Does heat turn you into a walking innuendo machine or something? Don’t you dare.”

“My name is U Know Yunho,” says Yunho. “It was my game ID. Why are you even surprised--”

“Whatever!” Donghae says again. “Doesn’t matter!” He slams the door shut before Yunho can more than try to force. “Just drink water, take lots of showers, and sexile Changmin!”

Yunho sighs.

\--

“You want me to what?” says Changmin.

Yunho tries to smile. “You have to admit it makes sense,” he says.

Changmin stares back at him, brow furrowed. “No, it definitely makes sense,” he says.

“Good,” Yunho says.

“The first half anyway,” Changmin continues. “Why the heck can’t I sleep with Kyuhyun?”

 _Because I don’t want to kill Super Junior’s maknae two days before SM Town LA?_ Yunho doesn’t say. “I may kill him,” Yunho actually _does_ say.

Changmin’s mouth falls open. “What--”

“Thank you for understanding, Changminnie.” Yunho reaches out to pat Changmin on the arm, somehow still smiling. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

“No. What? Wait--Why are you going to _kill_ Kyuhyun?”

“Because if I can’t have you no one can!” Yunho shrieks, and fuck, shit, there it is, the heat-brain. His mouth to brain filter is well and truly on it’s season vacation. Part of him has actually been ruminating over baby names since the moment Changmin started smiling at him several hours ago.

His smile is not cooperating.

Changmin is staring back at him gaping.

Yunho reaches desperately for a pillow, both to cover his lap--the never-ending boner has arrived at last to the party; Yunho is going to _murder_ Lee Donghae--and to throw at Changmin, _also_ desperately. “Get out!” he shouts. “Get out get out get out!”

Changmin throws his hands up, clearly taken aback, but backs away anyway because Yunho has basically given up the ghost and has embraced the part of him that said hitting Changmin was most definitely a good compromise between throwing it at him and trying to keep his dick covered.

“What--Yunho-hyung--!” he says, in between blows, and Yunho gets up off the bed to continue herding him out of their bedroom without even so much as a pause to give him his toothbrush. “Oh my fuck!” Changmin swears, glancing down before he can help himself. “Yunho-hyung! Boxers!”

“I am in _heat,_ you asshole!” Yunho shrieks back, somehow managing to interpret what Changmin is saying despite the fact that all the younger man is managing are sentence fragments. “It is _your_ fault anyway because my stupid heart decided to fall in love with your stupid face, so you can shut up and _let me go commando_ \--”

Changmin flails, stumbling. “Yah--Yah-- _Yah--_ can I at least--!”

“ _Out_!” Yunho shrieks one last time, not _at all_ dignified, and slams the door in Changmin’s face.

The hotel is dead silent.

It is only nine p.m. Jetlag is literally the worst. Yunho slept for most of the plane, napped and missed dinner, went out to get dinner, harassed Donghae, made friends with the cleaning staff, and all in all it’s still barely late enough to justify going to bed. Especially given the concert isn’t for two days.

There’s the sound of a throat clearing, then Changmin’s voice. “Can I please have my toothbrush?” Clearly, the asshole has not left.

Yunho narrows his eyes.

Throwing all of Changmin’s clothes and suitcase out with him would be a _tragically_ terrible idea. And yet.

Yunho opens his mouth.

Something of that must waft under the door towards Changmin, because immediately the younger man is stuttering, “never mind, I’ll see you tomorrow for rehearsal we’re leaving early for Knotts Berry farm if you want to come--” before Yunho gets to listen to the sound of footsteps hurrying down the hall.

He tries to do the math for where Kyuhyun’s hotel room is, eyes still almost squinting.

 _Donghae-yah_ , he texts finally, after all of twenty seconds. _Which room is Kyu in? I need you to go knock on the door in ten minutes and make sure Changminnie is not there._

 _Oh my God, Yunho-hyung, please, for the love of God read the label on the bottle and take more if you need to you are killing us_ , says Donghae.

For a second, Yunho’s mouth opens and his finger hovers over the call button so that he can verbally _eviscerate_ his friend.

Then he pauses, thinks that over, reaches for the suppressant bottle, and closes his mouth.

Apparently, he should have taken two pills. Not one. Oops.

Yunho takes the extra with water and sits on his bed sadly for a few minutes.

Then he opens a message to Changmin. _Look, Changdol, I’m sorry. I messed up the dosage. If you want, you can come get your toothbrush… and stay in the room. I was being an idiot._ He wants to add a heart, but it might be too much.

Yunho adds a heart.

Changmin doesn’t respond.

The heart might have been too much.

A moment later, Changmin sends back a selfie from what is clearly Kyuhyun’s bed--Super Junior’s bastard maknae is visibly and uncomfortably in the photo--with his middle finger straight in the air.

Yunho throws his phone across the hotel room.

The only reason Changmin goes to Disneyland in fresh clothes is because the time difference fucks Yunho over and he sleeps through the man’s assault on his suitcase; the only reason Yunho doesn’t murder him when he finds out is because the pills actually start to do their job, and he stops being livid about the fact that Changmin’s not in love with him, and starts being embarrassed about all of the terrible things he shouted at him.

Unfortunately for Changmin, not all of him is embarrassed, and a lot of him is still hurt.

So, he doesn’t talk to Changmin for the entirety of May 21st, to the point where at the press conference, when TVXQ gets asked a question, Yunho hands him the microphone without even looking to the side.

It’s the heat, Yunho decides, and not wounded pride.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUY THE CHANCE OF LOVE ON ITUNES. STREAM IT. [HERE ARE SOME POINTERS FOR THE MUSIC PROGRAMS](https://twitter.com/snxy/status/978795467596226560). [HERE IS AN FAQ ON HOW TO DO MELON (note: I haven't done this but I did guinea pig some IOS magic earlier so I know that part at least works also I'm poor but if you need)](https://twitter.com/snxy/status/911529964431749120)
> 
> Ways to earn my love and have input into when I post  
> 1) retweets/reblogs  
> 2) comments  
> 3) kudos
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/172338351905/title-my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/978924058401300481)


	11. broil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs listened to during this chapter: _Love Scenario_ , _Delicate_ , and the incredibly important _I Swear_.
> 
> Betaed by Hexmen and Kinah. All other mistakes are my own.

**11\. Broil**

\--

On the flight home from San Francisco, Yunho turns to Changmin and says, “I’m sorry I wouldn’t let you brush your teeth the other day.”

Two rows behind them, Yunho thinks the rest of Kyuline chokes. He ignores them and just keeps looking at Changmin.

Changmin looks back at him with his mouth half open. “Oh… kay--wait. Is that _really_ what you’re sorry for?”

Yunho pauses. “I mean,” he says. “No, but do you really want to do this here?”

Changmin keeps talking over him. “The fans even noticed because while you’ve made me speak before, you’re not usually that cold about it--“”

“I mean, I’m not sorry I did it to be with you, if that’s what you mean,” interjects Yunho, still not entirely listening to what Changmin’s said. Then it sinks in. “I mean--what?”

At least half of SNSD is clearly listening in on them with not at all concealed fervor.

The plane is predominantly SM artists and SM staff, but Yunho still lowers his voice.

“What?” he hisses towards Changmin.

Someone--Kyungjae-hyung, possibly--sounds like they’re beating their head against the seat in front of them.

Yunho looks at Changmin and takes in the fact that clearly this information is news to him, and wonders if he could force a window open and leap to freedom. “You hadn’t realized,” says Yunho.

“That’s because you didn’t _freaking tell him you idiot_!” someone who sounds remarkably like Kwon Boa shrieks.

Yunho ignores them, because it’s not Boa, since Boa is nicer than that.

Changming’s face is doing terrible things. “Well, I just,” he says. “I mean, you just,” he says. “Yunho-hyung--”

Yunho seriously should force a window open and jump to escape. Thank God they’re surrounded by people who will never tell.

“Look, we can just pretend it never happened,” Yunho tells Changmin. He reaches a hand out to pat the younger man on the arm, and then thinks better of it. “You don’t want…” He trails off, not at all ready to finish that sentence, and pastes a smile on his face instead. “It’s fine, Changdol.”

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says.

“You should get some sleep,” Yunho says, still fake smiling. “It’s a long flight.”

Changmin looks like he’d push it, but the fact that they’re not at all alone seems to get to him, and he settles back into his seat, frowning.

Yunho shoves his headphones into his ears and doesn’t make a sound for the next ten hours.

\--

“You’re an idiot,” Boa says, as soon as the cameras stop rolling.

A coordi-noona rushes forward to fiddle with Yunho’s bangs and the PDs stop to frown over by the monitors, already debating the pros and cons of their seating arrangement on the couch. Yunho already thanked the MCs and said his hellos to the rest of Boa’s friends scheduled to appear on the show, so he doesn’t feel bad focusing only on Boa. Still, he smiles, even as he bends his head forward and keeps perfectly still.

Coordi-noona finishes with his hair, bows, and is gone.

Boa is still looking at Yunho unimpressedly.

Yunho doesn’t let his smile slip. “Not here.”

Boa frowns harder.

“Look, I know,” Yunho says.

“Do you?” Boa lifts one eyebrow.

Yunho powers on. “Not here,” he says again. _Win Win_ isn’t a closed set so the fans are still here and still probably filming. His microphone might be off and Yunho might know better than to air his dirty laundry loudly and specifically, but Yunho’s still not going to risk it.

“Yundol-ah,” Boa says.

“Let’s talk about _your_ love life instead,” Yunho says. “That’s in the script, right?”

Boat stares at him with narrowed eyes.

“I promise I won’t make the joke about sons?” Yunho tries instead, and that gets him a hint of a smile.

“Oh, shut up,” says his friend. “I know it’s your dream for some big, strong, beautiful alpha to come carry you off into the sunset, but it’s not mine.” Boa says the last bit under her breath in a rush of slurred syllables, but Yunho still finds himself laughing loudly and nervously and batting anxiously in her general direction.

“Bo-nim,” he hisses.

Boa takes the hit with grace. “What?” she says. “Are you going to lie to _me_ , now?”

Yunho giggles, still a little nervous, and trying not to think too long and hard about the big, strong, beautiful alpha he left sleeping in their dorm that morning to go get primped and polished at the salon before _Win Win_ recording.

“Likelihood of sons being higher notwithstanding,” continues Boa, unperturbed. “Also, just because I’m not hiding--”

“Doesn’t mean it’s anybody’s business,” Yunho finishes. “I know, Bo-nim,” he says.

Boa quirks her lips at him, then punches him in the arm lightly. “Hey,” she says. “Which one of us is the baby crazy one again?”

Yunho makes a show of being overly affected, rolling into the couch to avoid the not at all painful punch. “It’s a lot more complicated than that,” he says.

 _Changminnie would actually have to love me for that to happen_ , he thinks.

Boa punches him in the arm again, hard. “Idiot,” she says fondly. “You’re the one overcomplicating it.”

If Yunho hadn’t already insisted on them not doing it here, he’d argue that point. So, he’s actually not the brave one. So, he’d rather spend the rest of their careers not talking about it than having to listen to Changmin affirm all of his fears and insecurities by telling him he really isn’t in love with him and he really doesn’t want to mate with him. So, what?

Yunho feels his smile slip slightly.

Boa frowns. “Yundol.”

“Later,” Yunho says again, in time for a PD to come move him to Boa’s right side instead.

Boa eyes him shrewdly but resumes the shooting script easily enough.

Yunho wonders how mad she’d be if he actually did turn tail and flee the set.

Almost like a mind reader, Boa is certain to lean forward on her next sentence and reach out and touch Yunho on the wrist, barely there, hardly noticeable, but branding all the same.

Yunho swallows.

\--

They share a car ride back to SM, and immediately, Yunho regrets agreeing to go on the show.

Yes, seeing Ara and Yeonhee had been nice, if not slightly awkward; there was, horrifically, a split second where Yunho remembered having to kiss Ara for _Heading to the Ground_ and also that Yeonhee had had to kiss _Changmin_ for _Paradise Ranch_ , and the slowly retreating part of him that came out to play all of their stay in California had reared its ugly head to focus on that second bit only. Thankfully nobody on the MC couch had noticed, though Soogeun-hyung had tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, and Boa had very kindly stomped on Yunho’s foot in a way that nobody caught on camera.

Yes, talking about Boa and their friendship and being around Boa, because of said friendship, had as always been lovely. Yes, Yunho liked _Win Win_ ’s general atmosphere.

But the car ride back to SM, alone with Kyungjae-hyung and Boa’s manager and Boa herself, still smirking down into her phone talking with Yeonhee and Ara--Yunho peeked, saw his name, and very quickly made himself busy with his own lonely device--Yunho has maybe a small amount of regret.

“Yunho-yah.” Boa still hasn’t looked up from her phone. “Are you ready to talk about it yet?”

“Isn’t your schedule too busy for me?” Yunho says, somewhat desperately.

Boa doesn’t even stop typing. “Guessing that’s a no,” she says. She finishes with whatever it is she’s saying to Yeonhee and Ara, before setting her phone down with all the finality of a period. “So,” she says. “You didn’t get pregnant.”

“Boa-yah!” Yunho yelps, cheeks blazing and eyes darting around the car anxiously like someone’s going to hear them or something.

“What.” Boa looks him straight in the eye. “Yundol. You can’t tell me you thought for some reason that going into heat was going to solve your problem--”

“Changminnie not loving me is not a solvable problem,” Yunho grits out automatically, chest tight and the slowly retreating part of him from California rearing its ugly head one more fucking time. “I mean. What?”

Boa has no sympathy for him. “You know I’m thinking of asking Hyukjae to dance with me after you?” she says.

Yunho blinks through the abrupt conversation change. “That makes sense--what--”

“And you know Hyukjae is practically married to Donghae.”

Yunho opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Are you purposefully making fun of my stage name?” he starts to ask.

Boa reaches out and slaps him on the arm. “Yundol-ah,” she says.

Yunho ducks his head, suitably chastened. “Sorry,” his says.

The car goes briefly awkward--Kyungjae-hyung heaves a sigh, Boa’s manager darts nervous looks between the two of them, and Boa’s lip curls back slightly.

“You are the reason my mother doesn’t believe I’m ever going to get married,” mutters Yunho, embarrassment still hot on the back of his neck.

Boa folds her upper lip back down. “Yundol-ah,” she says again.

Yunho sighs, and flops bonelessly into the car seat. “I wish you wouldn’t make me admit it,” he says.

Boa’s expression eases slightly, but she doesn’t let up. “Yundol-ah.”

“I’m embarrassed,” Yunho says. “I said unforgivable things.”

Boa lets out a breath. “I’d guarantee Changminnie probably doesn’t remember half of them,” she points out.

“I ran him out of our hotel room with a pillow,” Yunho retorts dryly. “While shouting about how much I was in love with him.”

Boa’s mouth rounds into a small ‘o.’

Yunho rubs at the back of his neck again. “You see,” he says. “It was that bad.”

“Look, Yunho…” Boa doesn’t give him a nickname this time. “I think you should at least apologize to Changminnie about the pillow thing.”

“I did, though,” says Yunho. “On the plane--”

“Alone,” Boa says. “Without our entire staff and company eavesdropping.”

Yunho purses his lips, mind rewinding back to that voice that was totally not Kwon Boa because Kwon Boa is too nice of a friend. “So, you were the one,” he mutters.

Boa doesn’t skip a beat. “You can’t prove that,” she says. “Also, Yundol.”

Yunho feels his shoulders raising in defense before she’s even finished speaking.

“If all you and Changminnie did was kiss…”

Yunho’s starting to be worried about the fact that heat-him hasn’t fully vanished.

“And he spent the next month or so not being alone in a room with you…”

“Bo-nim,” Yunho whines out before he can stop himself.

“Clearly heat sex was the _last_ thing the two of you needed to be doing.”   

Yunho has to take several long moments to banish the imagery that sentence invokes.

Boa makes a face. “Yundol-ah,” she says.

“Maybe I should take another pill,” Yunho says.

Boa slaps him on the shoulder again. “You should see a doctor beforehand,” she argues. “But also, you should _talk to Changmin_.”

“My schedule is incredibly busy,” Yunho says.

“Yunho, he’s not going to be a dick about it if he isn’t actually in love with you,” says Boa, sounding finally at her wits end, but Yunho tunes her out. “Don’t you dare stick your fingers in your ears.”

Yunho meets her eyes. “I’m not worried that he’s going to tell me he’s not in love with me,” he lies through his teeth.

“Fine.” His friend lifts her phone again. “So, you won’t be mad if I tell Yeonhee he has asked after her and he _is_ still single and one of the hottest alphas at SM.”

The noise that comes out of Yunho’s chest is resounding, snarling, and entirely undignified.

Boa sits back with smug pleasure. “Told you,” she says.

Yunho frowns. “That makes no sense,” he mutters. “You haven’t told me anything.”

“Talk to Changmin,” Boa says. “And also, get out of my car.”

Yunho gets out of her car.

\--

Unfortunately for Boa, avoiding Changmin becomes surprisingly easy. Their schedules overlap briefly towards the end of May when the company suggests that they, Boa, and EXO attend Super Junior’s final Super Show concert. Yunho would have gone anyway, but he has a friend’s wedding to attend first, so he doesn’t actually see Changmin until they’re being ushered into the stands behind EXO to watch the performance. They wave sapphire blue light sticks and come on stage for show and tell, but never have a spare moment of privacy where Changmin could corner Yunho and shout at him.

Because it’s becoming increasingly clear that that’s all Changmin wants to do.

Yunho spends most of June in and out of meetings about their comeback, learning choreography, watching the movie their choreographer Tony drew his influence from, and in and out of press screenings for _I Am_.

It’s almost too easy to keep a staff member between him and Changmin at all times.

Until June 25th, immediately following their latest _I Am_ appearance, when even Kyungjae-hyung--reliable, decent, _lovely_ Kyungjae-hyung--ducks his head in apology-- _apology!_ \--and bows out with Jooyoung-hyung to God knows where.

Yunho ends up standing in the center of the dorm with a smile slowly slipping off his face, overly styled hair flopping down into his eyes, and Changmin a festering swirl of emotion in the corner.

The stylists put him in shorts for the premiere and his knees are all banged up from practice the other day--he’s been late flipping onto his stomach and Tony is grueling and Yunho is starting to even feel bad for him--but Yunho doesn’t have much time for the lower half of Changmin, because the top half is the worrying bit.

The top half has the mouth and the face and the blazing, stormy eyes, and what was Yunho saying again? Why was he dissecting Changmin like some sort of object again? What fucking month was it again?

“I’m going to go to sleep early,” Yunho says quickly, and turns on his heel to flee.

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin’s voice is strained and unreadable and like storm clouds.

Yunho bites down on his own tongue to keep from reacting. He quickens his steps. “You should go to bed early too,” he says over his shoulder, only, not really over his shoulder because that would involve _looking_ over his shoulder and if he looked over his shoulder he’d have to see Changmin and maybe smell Changmin and Changmin is strained and unreadable and like _storm clouds_ \--

And Yunho woke up parched in 2005 and never recovered.

His room is a disarrayed sanctuary with a goddamned front door. Yunho turns to slam it shut.

Changmin’s left foot nearly gets crushed in the doorframe.

Yunho winces, heart in his throat because their comeback is in eight weeks and they’re filming the music video in four.  He releases his grip on the door. “Changdol--”

“Don’t you ‘Changdol’ me,” Changmin says, teeth gritted, left eye definitely twitching, and after a seriously conflicted moment, the younger man sets a hand onto the door frame so that he can menace his way into Yunho’s room and personal space. “Yunho-hyung.”

Yunho blinks back at him, heart going jackrabbit fast in his chest. Maybe the thing will beat its way out of his ribcage and he’ll die on the floor from lack of heart, which certainly would be preferable to having Changmin painstakingly cut the thing out and trample all over it with whatever it is he’s about to say. “Changmin-ah,” Yunho says.

Changmin’s eye twitches again. “Why the _fuck_ are you going around telling people I’m not in love with you?” he says.

Yunho’s head tilts to one side reflexively. “You--” he says. “Sorry, what?”

Changmin pushes in further, the door shifting into the room as he moves. “Why the fuck are you going around telling people I’m not in love with you?” he repeats, through his teeth.

Yunho starts backing away. The room thing was a bad idea. It’s not a sanctuary; it’s a fucking bear trap. “Changmin.”

“Do you _know_ who I had to hear it from?” continues Changmin, all the way inside the room with Yunho like a hunter with a gun, or whatever, not even limping due to the prior door slamming incident. “Lee Yeonhee.”

Yunho pauses. “The actress?” His voice has climbed a few octaves and sounds near unrecognizable. “Look, Changmin--”

“Why are you lying about me!” Changmin shrieks, and now that he’s started shouting his chest is heaving, his cheeks are blazing, and after exactly two exhales, he seems to go pinker, seems to finally realize his foot is in a lot of pain--there is wincing, an odd expression on his face, Yunho immediately feels guilty--and retreats.

Yunho watches him go with baited breath. Now that it’s happening, now that Yunho’s seemingly won, he all of a sudden wants nothing but the opposite. They should talk about things. Talking could maybe _fix_ things.

Avoiding Changmin isn’t going to be possible when they’re being carted around to music programs and variety studios and concert venues.

“Fuck,” Changmin swears suddenly. “Fuck, I told Kyu I wasn’t going to do this.”

“What the fuck are you talking about me to Kyu for?” snaps Yunho, before he can help himself.

Changmin’s eyes swing back around to meet his immediately. “We’re friends,” he says.

Yunho keeps looking at him, embarrassed. “Yeah, well, Yeonhee is friends with… Boa,” he says.

Changmin’s mouth twists into a mockery of a smile. “Right,” he says. “You recorded that show together.”

“With Ara,” says Yunho, for some reason feeling like pushing old buttons. They hadn’t dated, but the fans and press had gotten in a mess about it because Go Ara, beautiful, lovely, and talented, was about as alpha as Kwon Boa.

Changmin’s smile tinges cruel. “Right,” he says. “Telling lies.”

Yunho frowns. “That’s mean,” he says. “Changmin-ah--”

“Look, can we just talk about this?” interrupts Changmin, pacing across Yunho’s floor a few times in an angry, nervous huff. He allows himself two back and forth strides, growls, and then whirls like he’d like to leave again.

Yunho finds himself reaching for him before he can stop himself. “I keep telling people you don’t love me because if you say things enough times they get easier,” he blurts out, heart pounding.

Changmin stills, back rigid, ears pink looking where they poke out from behind his straight black, _Android_ hair.

Yunho continues. “And you don’t love me, clearly, and I know that, but I’m not ready to hear it, so I’ve just been telling other people--” He breaks off. “Okay, I maybe told Boa a few times and I guess Donghae and Hojoon-hyung know but it’s not like I’ve been gossiping about you, Changdol, what kind of asshole do you take me for?” He tries for self-deprecating, tries out a smile, and waits for Changmin to turn around and do the same.

Changmin’s shoulders shake.

Yunho stares at him with slowly growing horror. “Changmin-ah?” he says.

Changmin whirls. His lashes look damp. His mouth looks a mess. He stares at Yunho and Yunho stares back honestly not sure what the fuck is happening.

“Changmin?” he says.

“Jung Yunho,” says Changmin. “You are _an idiot_.”

Yunho licks his lips. That was not at _all_ what he was expecting. “I’m sorry?”

“An absolute fucking _idiot_ ,” says Changmin, still flushing, and rubs angrily at his eyes a few times before tossing his hair out of his eyes and stalking even more angrily across the room to Yunho’s laptop.

“That’s mine,” Yunho says, somewhat helplessly, even as Changmin opens the thing up and keys in Yunho’s password.

He gets it right on the first try and stares Yunho down the entire time with baleful wet looking eyes as if daring him to say anything about the fact.

Yunho doesn’t, because he doesn’t think he wants to hear what Shim ‘paragon of privacy and also internet safety despite his porn collection’ Changmin thinks of the fact that Yunho’s laptop passcode is at the moment his sister’s birthday.

“That’s… concerning,” Yunho says, because he should probably at least say something about how terribly codependent they’ve clearly become.

Changmin keeps meeting his eyes even as he clicks open iTunes and presses play on the demo recordings for ‘I Swear’ that the both of them have downloaded to listen to in-between booth recordings.

The instrumental starts, guitar loose and easy and Changmin’s vocals all the way pristine but not all the way polished.

Yunho gets a lump in his throat. “Changmin,” he says.

“Now.” Changmin shoves the laptop back on Yunho’s desk with a surprisingly steady hand. “Tell me again why you’re going around telling people I’m not in love with you?”

Yunho’s throat lump makes speaking hard. “Changmin.” He takes a step forward to close the laptop, and Changmin actually growls at him.

Which is hot, and then, embarrassing because it was hot, so Yunho stops moving.

“Can we not do this with your love song for whoever playing?” Yunho says.

Two splashes of color make their way across Changmin’s perfect cheekbones. “My what?” he says.

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Yunho mutters, not meeting his eyes. “This is why I’ve been avoiding you--”

“Ha!” Changmin points dramatically at him. “So you _have_ been avoiding me!”

Yunho stares back at him finally. “No,” he says before he can help himself. “I’ve just been conveniently attached at the hip to Kyungjae-hyung because I’ve decided to date betas, now.”

Changmin’s eyes narrow. “Since when do you date anyone?”

Yunho doesn’t know how to answer that. “I don’t think I owe you that, actually,” he says.

“Fucking hell, _Hyung_ ,” snaps Changmin. He takes two steps forward-- _I Swear_ has started onto the English-speaking parts and Yunho did not want to be doing this while Changmin sang about loving people. “The song is about you!”

That gives Yunho pause. “What?”

Changmin just keeps going. “The song is _about_ you!” Changmin says again. “ ‘ _A long time has passed so I’m used to being in front of you_ ,’” he says, hands making quotes. “Who the hell else was it supposed to be about?”

“I don’t know--a woman--the fans--” Yunho says, stepping hurriedly forward to grab Changmin by both hands.

Changmin fights him regardless, still clearly rambling on about the lyrics to his own love song--his love song for _Yunho_ \--and not meeting Yunho’s eyes. “‘A woman!’ ‘The fans!’” Changmin finishes. He’s not looking at Yunho, not until they’re almost touching, and when he does, his eyes are huge.  

Yunho uses the opportunity to finally capture both of Changmin’s hands, and he gets a front row seat to the sudden, embarrassed surprise weaving its way throughout Changmin’s beautiful eyes. He gets to watch the man’s cheeks somehow manage to blush more, gets to watch him bite at his lower lip before he can even _help_ himself.

“Yah,” Changmin says. “Don’t look at me like that--you’re the one who was an idiot about it,” he mutters.

Yunho gives both of his hands a squeeze. “Changminnie you love me,” he says.

Changmin still won’t meet his eyes. “Obviously,” he says. “I’m not the one who didn’t realize.”

“To be fair, you didn’t want to mate with me,” says Yunho, but he’s not really making the argument because he’s got Changmin pinned to a fucking _desk_ and there are so many other wonderful things he can do with Changmin pinned to a fucking desk like walking forward until their hips meet and looking down his nose at the man’s perfect eyelashes.

Changmin blinks rapidly a few times.

Yunho should not find that adorable.

Yunho is a walking romance novel.

“Okay, one,” says Changmin, unweaving their fingers so that he can, after a mild pause, settle both hands onto Yunho’s shoulders.

Yunho drops his down to cup Changmin’s hips in response, pleased.

Changmin’s throat bobs.

Yunho’s breath catches.

“For one,” Changmin breathes, still staring up at Yunho’s mouth like a man possessed. “You didn’t talk to me about that--you basically just sprung it on me and everyone else involved.”

Yunho will give him that. “In hindsight, that was idiotic,” he says.

“And also, since when does mating have any bearing on if I love you?”

That gives Yunho pause. He doesn’t back up--one of Changmin’s thumbs is playing along the groove where his neck meets his shoulder and it feels fucking glorious--but Yunho does stop feeling quite so lovestruck about it all.

“I told you I liked you,” Changmin continues. “I kissed you--”

“And then you wouldn’t be alone with me for an entire _month_ ,” says Yunho, distracted because that had been unfair too.

Changmin ducks his head. “I panicked,” he mumbles.

“You were stupid too,” Yunho corrects.

“Stupid over you,” says Changmin.

Yunho’s heart skips two beats.

Changmin lifts his head. “Anyway,” he says. “If you’d just talked to me, we could have been doing this ages ago.”

“This,” Yunho says. His gaze drops back down to Changmin’s mouth.

“Real subtle, Jung,” says Changmin, but he belies the teasing by sliding one hand up to cup the back of Yunho’s head so that he can kiss him.

“You’re the one who wasn’t _clear_ , Changdol,” Yunho says into Changmin’s mouth anyway, because why would he let himself have, well, _this_ \--and Changmin just gets a tighter grip on Yunho’s hair and tugs.

“Stop talking,” the younger man says once they’ve parted for breath. “You’re ruining it.”

Yunho shifts a thigh in between Changmin’s legs.

Changmin’s breath hitches.

“You were saying?” says Yunho.

“Your bed is right there,” says Changmin, and somehow whirls and flips them so that Yunho goes down back first into the mattress.

“Touché,” Yunho manages, voice only slightly wrecked.

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin has both hands on the hem of his shirt like he’s thinking of taking it off. “Stop speaking in tongues--”

“And use my tongue for other things?” Yunho says, sitting up so that he can still Changmin’s hands.

Changmin allows it, quirks his lips at the corners, before settling down across Yunho’s thighs.

Their breath mists together between the two of them. “I like the way you think,” says Changmin.

“I feel like you like the way I kiss _more_ ,” replies Yunho, and only giggles slightly when Changmin puts both hands up the back of his shirt in retaliation.

They end up pressed together front to front up by the pillows, feet hanging off the side because Yunho is ticklish and Changmin is bony and aggressive, trading easy, lazy kisses until Yunho’s mouth feels raw and he’s practically fighting to stay awake.

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says. The room’s gone dark, Yunho’s laptop has fallen all the way asleep, and the demo version of ‘I Swear’ finished what feels like hours ago. “Are you sleeping?” says Changmin.

“No sir,” lies Yunho, not opening his eyes. “I was thinking.”

“Yah.” Changmin snorts, then slaps a hand across Yunho’s chest.

Yunho squirms, pleased, and shifts on the bed to get more comfortable, and certainly not just because doing so ends with Changmin’s palm pressed over his rapidly beating heart.

The room goes quiet again.

Yunho says, “I should take off my pants.”

Changmin snickers.

Yunho reaches down to love tap him on the cheek. “Shut up,” he says. “They’re jeans.”

Changmin snickers again, then licks Yunho’s hand.

Yunho pulls away with a yelp, suddenly a lot more awake, and pushes away from Changmin on the bed with a scowl. “You’re disgusting,” he grumbles.

Changmin just smiles beatifically back at him and resettles himself into the center of the bed. He puts one hand behind his head and lets his eyes go mismatched.

Yunho gets to his feet, shucks out of the jeans, and swallows.

“You were saying?” says Changmin.

“That I can’t believe I want to mate you,” says Yunho, and then goes to sit directly across his stomach.

Changmin makes a noise, breath knocked out of him, but while he releases his neck to grab Yunho by the hips--and it’s that great; a bare hand right on Yunho’s hipbone? Sign Yunho the fuck _up_ for that _all the time_ \--his eyes go shrewd. “Wait, what’s this about mating?” he says.

Yunho finishes arranging himself contently atop Changmin so that his ass isn’t directly on the other man’s dick. “Well obviously we’ll have to wait until next April,” he says, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Which is your fault, clearly.”

Changmin’s hand tightens its hold on Yunho’s hips. “Hey, we already established you went about that _completely wrongly_ ,” he says. “But go back.”

“Back?” Yunho tilts his head, reaches up to shove his too-long bangs out of his eyes, and gives his hips a swivel. That seats his ass directly against Changmin’s dick and they both groan, involuntary and automatic and making the roof of Yunho’s mouth ache.

Changmin’s eyelids flutter. “Not literally,” he gets out finally. “Hyung.”

Yunho fights the urge to do another ‘s’ with his hips. “Fine,” he says. He eyes Changmin’s grip on his hips until the younger man releases him, and then settles himself back down on the bed next to him with a yawn. “You’re right. We have early practice tomorrow.”

“ _Catch me girllllll_ ,” Changmin sing-songs automatically. His voice is so horribly out of tune he probably isn’t even trying.  

Yunho rolls his eyes. “I should have you fired for that.”

Changmin drops an arm around across Yunho’s shoulders, and snorts. “You can take my pants off too, then,” he says. “I don’t have to come to practice if you’re going solo--”

Yunho drops a hand down to palm the man’s ass regardless. “Shut up, Changdol,” he says. “The adults are sleeping.”

“Oh I’ll show you who’s the adult,” mutters Changmin, which is how they end up losing most of the pillows and blankets on Yunho’s bed.

Yunho is ticklish.

Changmin is bony.

One of their newer managers draws the short straw and is forced to come poke a head in the room to make sure nobody is killing anyone.

In his boxers, t-shirt rucked all the way up near his chin and hair in complete disarray with Changmin sprawled over to him squawking about the state of his perfectly groomed and styled comeback hair, Yunho looks over at the man and manages a smile.

Somewhere in the middle of the fight Changmin lost his shorts and nearly an eye.

Somewhere in the middle of the fight Yunho went from sleep-deprived to about ten seconds from saying fuck their schedule and instead signing them both up for fucking period.

He keeps grinning at newest Manager-hyung.

“Oh, my fucking God,” shrieks newest-Manager-hyung.

There’s a scuffle in the hallway.

“What’s going on?”

“Are they actually killing each other?”

“Are we free?”

Yunho might have to fire Kyungjae-hyung and Jooyoung-hyung.

“Neither of them have _pants_ on!” says newest Manager-hyung.

“Oh my God,” says Kyungjae-hyung.

“I almost wish they were fighting each other,” agrees Jooyoung-hyung.

“We’re wearing fucking boxers you traitors!” shouts back Changmin, and Yunho lets go of his hair.

“Changminnie I _love_ you,” he sing-songs.

“I love you too,” says Changmin automatically. His head ducks, his eyes go shy, and there is a blush staining his cheeks again.

Yunho feels like he’s gone and flown off to be in the clouds.  

There’s a beat.

“Oh my God they’re telling each other they _love_ each other!” exclaims newest Manager-hyung.

“I’m demanding a raise,” says Kyungjae-hyung.

“SM does not pay me _enough_ for this,” agrees Jooyoung-hyung.

“Well, you’re in luck, you’re fired!” shouts back Changmin. His cheeks are blazing, but he’s smiling back at Yunho like he can’t help himself.

Yunho’s heart is oh so full.

\--

“You did this on purpose,” says Changmin, directly against the shell of Yunho’s ear.

“Changminnie, smile they’re taking our photo,” says Yunho, not leaning away from him, because that would be obvious. Yeah, his heart rate went wonky the moment he realized his bandmate was practically hanging off him and yeah it hasn’t normalized in the _slightest_ despite the fact that there are probably hundreds of cameras pointing towards them, but Yunho is a professional and he will behave as such.

“Nobody is looking,” says Changmin, still up against Yunho’s ear.

He’s blatantly lying.

Yunho has recognized at least three fans so far, and he hasn’t been looking. Everyone is looking. Yunho swallows. “Smile,” he says again. It’s almost a whine.

Changmin lets his hand linger against the small of Yunho’s back but then pulls back a hair. “Our first appearance as a couple is a wedding,” he says. “You had to have done that on purpose.”

Yunho should really not trip at the wedding while at least three fans stare at them behind expensive, high definition cameras. He gasps a little, frantically trying to bring air into his lungs.

Changmin finally seems to step back, worry clouding around him and mixing with what Yunho hates to admit is probably just plain arousal.

Because Changmin called them a couple.

It has been _three_ days.

Yunho swallows.

Yunho regrets that, because his immediate reaction to Changmin’s distress is to turn to him, but the camera, and their more than three fans, and its _Manager-hyung’s_ wedding.

He forces his lips into a smile.

“Are you going to catch the bouquet again?” says Changmin.

Yunho gives up the fight and reaches out for Changmin’s wrist, covered up by his too-large suit and probably stifling in the heat of so many bodies. He ends up stuck on that bare patch of skin for far too long for the move to be innocent, but they’re tall, in the back, and not the main focus for a good portion of the people here.

Manager-hyung is marrying his omega girlfriend, with whom he’s been dating for longer than he’s know Yunho and Changmin, and also with whom he’s already tied the less metaphorical knot. Which was crude, if you thought about it, and really had no place at their fucking _wedding_ , only, well. They’d already heard the speeches and said the vows and set their teeth into each other for the reclaiming ceremony, so. Maybe the phrase was all the more apt.

Regardless, most of the people here are the other manager-hyungs, a few SM staff, a few SM artists, and family.

They couldn’t care less if TVXQ’s leader took TVXQ’s maknae by the wrist and hauled him around a pillar to stand unthreateningly together in a corner away from prying eyes.

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says. He glances down at the grip Yunho has on his wrist, and after a pause, laces their fingers together. They’re well hidden behind the pillar, but Yunho still feels his heart drop--and his scent change worryingly in the air around them--in response.

The only indication that Changmin’s noticed is the barely there dilation of his pupils. He doesn’t let go of Yunho’s hands.

“Say that again,” Yunho says finally. He doesn’t know how he’s found his voice, but he also doesn’t _recognize_ his voice, so perhaps he hasn’t.

“Are you going to catch the bouquet again?” Changmin’s started rubbing circles in the skin along Yunho’s thumb and it’s distracting and terrible and likely to end with the two of them giving off pheromones that really have absolutely no place at a wedding _at_ all, save it for the honeymoon.

“No,” says Yunho. “The other thing.”

Changmin looks like he wants to step in closer but seems to think better of it. “You have to have done this on purpose,” he says.

Yunho glares at him. “Changmin-ah.”

“Our first appearance,” Changmin says.

Yunho almost wants to stomp his foot at him. “Changmin- _ah_.”

“Wedding,” Changmin says.

Yunho risks a glance around to see where the room’s focus is--Manager-hyung and his new wife are currently smiling and bowing for both sets of parents and one of the people Yunho thinks is Manager-hyung’s old army squadmate might be _weeping_ \--and then takes the initiative to be the one stepping in close. He doesn’t pin Changmin to the pillar and have his way with him.

From the dilation of Changmin’s pupils--not merely barely-there anymore; probably more accurately there in spades--the fact that he’d thought about it does not escape the other man.

Changmin swallows. His throat bobs.

Yunho wants to lean in and run his nose along the skin there until all he can think about is how very much he wants Changmin to climb inside him and never _leave_.

Yunho had no idea what he was going to say.

“Our first appearance as a couple,” says Changmin kindly, seemingly aware.

Yunho’s heart tries to come out from behind his ribs. “Yeah,” his voice is breathier than it has any right to be. “That.”

“Yunho-hyung,” says Changmin.

“Yunho-yah,” calls Manager-hyung. “Changmin-ah.”

They separate like they were burned, eyes averted from each other guiltily, and spin to face the intruder.

“Yunho and Changmin have to leave early for an _I Am_ press screening,” Manager-hyung explains to his wife. “We thought we’d catch you before you do.”

He shoots them an apologetic look, before bowing a little. “I’m so glad you came.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Changmin says, the first to regroup, shockingly.

Yunho’s too distracted by the dip of Manager-hyung’s collar, the line of his wife’s neckline, and the blooming mate-marks marring the skin exposed there. He coughs, aware that his silence has stretched on for too long, and ducks his head. “What Changmin said,” he says, and laughs when Changmin rolls his eyes. “You do that to me in interviews all the time.”

“Yeah, well, your answers are better than mine.” Changmin’s bangs are falling into his eyes. Yunho wants to reach out and brush them away.

“I actually think Jooyoung is looking for you,” interjects Manager-hyung, seemingly bemused for some reason, and exchanging odd looks with his wife. “It seems your busy schedule calls.”

Yunho laughs again, loud and slightly fake, and Changmin’s answering smile is mildly annoyed.

“Congratulations,” the younger says, bowing, before craning his head in search of his manager, and then, spotting him, heading off towards the man.

“Jiyeon-ssi,” Yunho says, reaching out to touch her on the hand, briefly, which only now he realizes is still interlaced with Manager-hyung. “It was lovely.”

She bows her head, blush high on her cheeks, and darts an oddly conspiratory look over towards Changmin. “You should keep him.”

Yunho’s blushes before he can help himself--Manager-hyung doesn’t seem to have noticed; too busy pulling faces at some of the younger guests across the room.  

Yunho’s belly is full of butterflies.

In the car ride to the screening, Yunho stares at the line of Changmin’s profile, traces the slope of his shoulders, and thinks about where he would bite him, given the chance. He doesn’t say anything, and the excitement of a crowd is enough of a distraction, even though the flashbulbs from the cameras are blinding. By the time they’re carted back home, Yunho is too tired to do more than kiss Changmin briefly on the mouth before flopping himself down onto the left side of the younger man’s bed. Thinking about mating, bonding, marriage--he’d much rather just sleep.

Although part of him still thinks it would be nice to mark Changmin on his neck where the world could see.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE MADE IT FRIENDS. WE MADE IT. I'm so happy and amazed at how much love you have all shown this story. **Comments** and **retweets** and **kudos** really do make my day and make me want to keep writing and updating faster!!!
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/172531465725/title-my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/980921690929729536)


	12. blaze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOUT OUT TO KINAH. BEST FRIEND EVER. MADE FAB GIFS. EDITED. Shout out to Hexmen for fixing MANY THINGS. They're the real MVPs.
> 
> All other mistakes are FOR SURE my own. Also, omfg you guys literally like 63 kudos on last chapter I'm gonna SCREAM.
> 
>  **Note:** Hovering over vocabulary (on a browser) will bring up a box with definitions. This information can also be found in the [Primer](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/aboau).

**12\. Blaze**

\--

“So you didn’t bite him,” says Heechul-hyung. He takes a too-loud slurp of his glass of cola--employed government worker that he is--and stares at Yunho around the rim of his glass.

“Hyung,” Yunho whines. “We haven’t done more than kiss.”

Heechul-hyung sets his glass down with a gentle thud. “Yeah,” he concedes. “And whose fault is that?”

“Kyungjae-hyung,” Yunho says immediately, because it’s true. In the two weeks since he and Changmin have gotten together, his manager has walked in on the two of them in more compromising positions than Yunho can count on one hand. Well. That’s probably unfair. Mostly, those positions were one of them pinned to a wall and the other busy kissing them within an inch of their life. And also, no kiss had been the same--Yunho can recall each and every one with startling, arousing clarity; partly, of course, due to the fact that he wasn’t sure he’d ever get over the novelty of having a front row seat to the roof of Changmin’s mouth.

Most recently, Changmin had cornered him barely inside their dressing room for _Music Japan_ , which was dangerous in and of itself because their demand in Japan, as always, meant that there was no limit on who would stop by to visit. He’d looked Yunho in the eyes, said, “‘Yungja?’” and then taken Yunho’s mouth before Yunho could do anything more than try to inquire as to why the fuck Changmin had named his puppet Jane.

But Yunho has digressed.

His pants feel a little bit tight.

Heechul-hyung is staring back at him with his eyebrows raised. “Kyung… tae,” he says. “Your… dildo.”

Yunho’s mouth opens, blush staining both cheeks. “No--”

“Yurobbong.” Heechul-hyung is merciless and unrelenting. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you really should try the real thing--”

“Oh my God--My manager!” Yunho interjects desperately. “My _manager_! Kyungjae-hyung--Won Kyungjae! Jae like Hyukjae--oh my _God_ \--” Yunho breaks off for air, cheeks on fire, and Heechul-hyung leans across the table to pour him his own sipful of cola.

Yunho drinks it down desperately.

Heechul-hyung does the same. “Well. I’m glad you’re not holding off fucking Changmin because his dick is smaller than your dildo,” the older man says, right as Super Junior’s dorm door opens up to reveal Changmin and Kyuhyun.

They appear to be mid-conversation with Ryeowook, who immediately takes notice of Yunho and Heechul-hyung and bows, before turning back towards his friends. “Look, this isn’t even your floor, Kyu--” he tries to say.

“Wait, hold on,” Kyuhyun interrupts, eyes wide as saucers. He steps around Ryeowook with his shoes still on. “Chwang’s dick is what now?”

“Not bigger than Yunho’s dildo,” chirps Heechul-hyung, at the same time Yunho remembers how to breathe and Changmin makes an incredibly high-pitched whine.

“Heechul- _hyung_!” Yunho hisses.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Ryeowook whispers.

“I want to _die_ ,” Changmin manages.

“Yeah, that’s not true at all. We measured--”

“This is not even your floor, Kyuhyun-ssi!” shrieks Changmin, panicked sounding and voice reaching octaves it only does on good days and in the comfort of studios. “We haven’t gone up the correct number of floors after all! So sorry, Heechul--Heechul-hyung. Yun--Yunho-hyung.” How Changmin’s managed to say all their names plus honorifics is beyond Yunho.

“What, Chwang, tell them. It’s bigger--” says Kyuhyun, and this time Changmin really does sound like he’s dying when he laughs about it, grabs his friend by one wrist, and hauls him bodily out of the apartment.

Yunho listens to the sound of the two of them squabbling all the way to the elevator with an uncomfortable ringing in both ears.

Ryeowook closes the dorm door.

“Ryeongu,” greets Heechul-hyung easily. “You’re home early.”

Ryeowook rolls his eyes. “Neither of them drank very much,” he says. “Because we have _Inkigayo_ filming and you both have that concert tomorrow.” He smiles towards Yunho.

Yunho has no idea how to smile back.

Ryeowook takes that easily enough, nodding towards Heechul-hyung one more time, before padding off towards the bedrooms.

The room descends into moderate silence.

Yunho manages to find his voice. “So,” he starts to say.

“You should probably go up a floor and assure Changminnie that his dick is enough for you,” advises Heechul-hyung sagely, and then leans across the table to helpfully thump Yunho on the back a few times when he chokes on his own breath.

“Hyung!” he gasps out.

Heechul-hyung shrugs. “What?” He quirks a brow. “I’m just speaking to you as an alpha who has been with omegas.”

Yunho’s brain could have lived without the mental image. So could his dick, to be completely honest, and whatever lingering spike of pheromones the thought of that sends bouncing around the room.

Heechul-hyung inhales very deeply through both nostrils, and then frowns. “Ugh,” he says. “Yundol.”

Yunho feels a stab of immediate guilt. “Sorry,” he mutters.

Heechul-hyung reaches across the table and shoves him in the arm. “Stop that,” he says. “You’re fine.”

Now Yunho feels like blushing, horribly. He meets Heechul-hyung’s eyes and tries on a smile.

“Well, no.” Heechul-hyung’s lips twist and he pauses, clearly thinking. “You smell fine, but you also smell…” His tongue darts out to wet his lips like that will help somehow, and it’s so comical, so very much like those lesser used textbooks detailing other species’ use of the flehmen response from cats, who always managed to look disdainful, to horses, who just looked an awful like Heechul-hyung almost does now.

Only Heechul-hyung has probably never not been pretty in his life, so even in this Yunho still manages to find him attractive.

“You smell like you’re not mine,” Heechul-hyung decides.

Something raw and shivery goes straight down Yunho’s spine. “Oh,” he says. Breathes. His head feels fuzzy and his heart feels shuddery and all of a sudden standing up to go assure Changminnie that his dick is loads larger than Kyungtae is a _terrific_ idea.

Heechul-hyung rolls his eyes. “You might be better waiting until tomorrow,” he says, almost reading Yunho’s mind.

Yunho scowls. “Tomorrow is the Seoul Fan Festival,” he says.

“After,” amends Heechul-hyung, unbothered. “Look, do you really want to trifle with a drunk Changmin _and_ Kyuhyun?”

Yunho feels his lips turn down. “But Ryeowook said they hadn’t drank much.” He hasn’t either, but the cola is looking appealing, so Yunho lifts his glass to his lips again.

“I’ve been sent a dick pic,” says Heechul-hyung immediately, timing it so that most of the soda goes straight up Yunho’s nose and sloshes across his jeans.

“ _Hyung--”_

“That was a lie,” Heechul-hyung says. “Even drunk, your maknae has enough sense not to let anyone photograph his dick--imagine what would happen if that got out?”

Yunho won’t lie, that’s not really what he’s imagining with regards to Changmin’s dick. “Well, I mean,” he says, voice disengaged from his brain it seems. “At least he’s an alpha?”

“Yundol-ah.” Heechul-hyung sounds bemused. “Have you never seen an alpha cock before? It’s not like the knot’s all that noticeable at the beginning. Especially given that this particular set of dick pics would probably be meant to demonstrate Changminnie’s considerable _length_ \--”

“ _Heechul-hyung_!” Yunho shrieks, face on fire despite himself.  

Heechul-hyung smirks back at him. “I’m just saying.”

“I have _so_ seen an alpha dick!” snaps Yunho, because he fucking _has_ , even though on the man front it hadn’t been attached to a real person or anything and was mostly in badly shot porn. “Heechul- _hyung_.”

Heechul-hyung is unfazed. “I’m just saying you sound unenlightened,” he says, and reaches for his fucking fly.

Which is unfortunately why the moment Kyuhyun comes storming back into the dorm with Changmin hot on his heels, Yunho is in the process of cursing Heechul-hyung out--“You’re drinking _cola_ you asshole, fucking _cola,_ this is fucking harassment, I am going to get you _thrown out of SM_ \--” “I’m just trying to make sure you’re suitably ready to tie the knot with dear Changminnie, Yurobbong, please stop hitting me in the family jewels I _need_ them--”--and wrestling the man’s hands away from the front of his pants.

Kyuhyun shouts: “I’m the one who purchased Kyungtae and I can guarantee we measured it against Chwang’s dick so if that is the only thing stopping you from fucking him you are _missing_ out!” before the image in front of him apparently crystallizes, and he stops abruptly. “What the fuck are you doing--”

“Ow, asshole, don’t stop in the fucking doorway!” swears Changmin, holding his nose, thankfully, so he doesn’t have to see Yunho astride the coffee table.

“Yurobbong’s never seen an alpha dick before have a good time be safe kids use a condom!” shouts Heechul-hyung, grabs both glasses off the table, pats Yunho on the head, and somehow manages to snare Kyuhyun on his way out of the still open apartment door.

He pulls it shut behind them both with a loud slam, which causes Changmin to wince and Yunho to rather abruptly realize he’s still _astride the coffee_ table.

Changmin seems to take in the stretch of his thighs, the slope of his (non-existent) ass, and whimpers.

Yunho very gracelessly slides himself back down onto Heechul-hyung’s floor.

Nobody says a damn word.

Finally, Changmin seems to find his voice. “I’ll ignore what Heechul-hyung said if you ignore what Kyuhyun said?”

Yunho is inclined to agree with that, but also: “I don’t know. I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that you let Kyuhyun purchase me a dildo.”

Changmin’s ears go bright red. “He’s dead to me,” he says, more to himself. “Um.” He takes a hesitant step further into the apartment. “Does it help if I tell you Minho did most of the actual picking?”

Yunho opens his mouth.

“I just wanted to do a good job,” Changmin hurriedly adds. “I wanted to take care of you.” He won’t meet Yunho’s eyes.

Yunho stares back at him blankly. His cheeks feel warm again, but this time for the most wonderful of reasons. “Changdol-ah,” he says.

“Look, I won’t lie.” Changmin kicks off both of his shoes far too easily--he must have not had time to put them on all the way before he had to chase after his asshole best friend--and crosses the room so that he can stand in front of Yunho. “I really didn’t think you’d keep it, let alone name it.”

“Technically Donghae named it,” Yunho says. He stares up at Changmin until he gets a crick in his neck, and then stands as well. “And you should know better. Those things are pure plastic.”

Changmin’s eyes go far off and a bit hazy. “Oh yeah.” He shudders, almost like he’s reliving something, and before Yunho can inquire after that, seems to shake it off.

Yunho remembers abruptly that he’d sanitized it, and feels heat flood his cheeks again. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I swear, neither Hyung nor I had alcohol.”

Changmin reaches forward abortively, fingers curled towards Yunho’s chin, and Yunho very quickly takes the necessary step forward so that the younger’s man fingers graze the line of his neck. It’s intimate, electrifying, and automatically the temperature in the dorm seems to go up by several degrees.

From outside the door in the hallway, Yunho very rapidly becomes aware of whispering, then swearing, then, Kyuhyun.

“Fucking fine-- _Shim Chwang_! _Yunho-hyung_!”

Changmin pulls his hand away from Yunho’s neck like he’s been burned, startled.

“ _Heechul-hyung says he didn’t actually mean it because there aren’t actually any alpha condoms in the dorm_!”

Yunho’s eyes drop down to Changmin’s dick before he can help himself, conversation from before coming back in startling and horrible technicolor.

“ _All we have are beta ones--_ really?-- _and Manager-hyungdeul don’t want us bringing_ anyone _home, let alone fucking them_!”

The door creaks open. Heechul-hyung stands beside Kyuhyun pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, thank you Kyuhyun-ah,” he says. “The entire floor has heard, now.”

“We really fucking _have_ ,” says Donghae dryly, emerging from his rooms with a sleep mussed Hyukjae. “Although, to be fair, all of you were being quiet until you tried to take your pants off, Hyung.”

There is a pregnant pause.

Yunho darts a look towards Changmin automatically.

His bandmate stays still.

Heechul-hyung rolls his eyes, seemingly unbothered, but also, tellingly, shoves Kyuhyun into the dorm before him. The slamming of the door for the third time that evening is even louder.

Hyukjae yawns. “Are we about to lose our spot as most married couple of SM?” he says.

Donghae’s mouth softens.

Heechul-hyung snorts.

The tips of Changmin’s ears go pink, but he doesn’t dispute the fact, just steps himself closer to Yunho without meeting his eyes.

Yunho lets him, fights the urge to hold his hand, and turns back towards Donghae.

“I am very glad to hear all about Kyungtae’s history,” his friend is saying.

Hyukjae yawns again, clearly in the process of spending the night, before retreating back towards Donghae’s room. He leaves the door open, and Donghae, clearly seeing it for the invitation it is, waggles both eyebrows at Yunho and Changmin before following.

“I feel like I should remind you all that the only reason Kyuhyun was involved was because I panicked, and the only reason Minho was around was because Taemin--” Changmin breaks off, embarrassed, and rubs at the back of his neck some more.

Yunho gives up the ghost and reaches for his hand and gives it a squeeze. “That make sense,” he says.

Kyuhyun makes a noise.

Heechul-hyung groans. “Ugh,” he says. “They’re holding hands.”

“They’re also leaving,” Changmin corrects, but doesn’t let go of Yunho’s hand either, and even gives it a squeeze.

When Kyungjae-hyung arrives to fetch the two of them twenty minutes later, Heechul-hyung takes one look at him, darts a look over towards Yunho with his mouth open, and bursts out laughing.

“Don’t want to know,” Kyungjae-hyung says, eyes on Yunho and Changmin’s still clasped hands. “Car’s out front.”

They make it halfway to their own dorm before Changmin speaks, shifting slightly against the hold Yunho has on him in the car to speak over the early morning radio programing Kyungjae-hyung has on as background noise. “Why were you and Heechul-hyung talking about alpha dicks, anyway?”

Kyungaje-hyung doesn’t have an accident.

Yunho very much feels that’s a miracle.

He pauses to get his breath back. “He asked me why I hadn’t slept with you, yet,” he says.

“Oh.” Changmin’s mouth rounds. “What did you say?”

“Erm, well.” Yunho doesn’t want to say--not with the man in question in the car. He shoots a nervous look forward, then back to Changmin, then back towards _Kyungjae-hyung_ \--

“Why are you looking at Kyungjae--oh holy fuck,” Changmin blurts.

Yunho really hopes he doesn’t elaborate. He’d like to be able to continue to have a working relationship with his manager, even once the man gets reassigned and rotated to one of the newer rookie groups. “Yeah,” he says.

Changmin’s grin is infectious.

“I might not understand the two of you, but I can assure you we will be having a _meeting_ about this,” says Kyungjae-hyung, clearly done with walking in on the two of them and fetching them from various establishments late at night. “We have some down time in Seoul prepping for the new album, and Kim-seonsaengnim has said that it would be the perfect time to address… birth control.”

He says the last bit with all the joy of a man going to his death.

“Yunho-hyung’s not in heat,” Changmin says. “That’s birth control in and of itself.”

Yunho just nods, because at least one of them is able to speak and is making a modicum of sense.

“Right.” Kyungjae-hyung still sounds pained. He pulls the car into the turn lane and signals with a sigh. “But presumably when that happens you will still be together--”

“Oh definitely,” Changmin says immediately.

“I mean, I kind of was assuming we’d… sleep together the first time during heat, so,” Yunho adds, finally finding his voice. Its like what he’s said is a typhoon or something, because it causes literal waves in the car.

“What?” Changmin says.

“I should retire early,” Kyungjae-hyung mutters.

“You? You didn’t think that?” Yunho says. He wishes he hadn’t spoken.

“That’s at least ten months,” Changmin says. “Hyung.”

“We can talk about it later,” Yunho says around a yawn. He sits up, pulling away from the delicious heat of Changmin and hunkering down in his own seat. “After the meeting.”

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin sounds petulant.

“It’s late,” Yunho says. He pauses, then leans in for a quick kiss. “I don’t think Manager-hyung wants to hear--”

“Manager-hyung would absolutely _not_ like to hear!” puts in Kyungjae-hyung. He pulls into their garage and parks the car.

“Fine.” Changmin can’t take his eyes off Yunho’s mouth. “But we _will_ talk about it.”

“Promise,” Yunho says, and smiles.

Changmin smiles back, pleasure coming off him so strong Yunho can taste it in the air. “But really. Have you seen an alpha cock before?”

Kyungjae-hyung nearly trips in his haste to get himself unbuckled and out of the front seat.

Yunho follows suit rolling his eyes, stepping down out of the car and waiting for Changmin to exit before slamming the door shut. “Changdol-ah,” he says dryly. “I lived with four guys for six years.”

Changmin pulls a face, even though he knows firsthand exactly what Yunho is talking about. “Two of them were betas,” he mutters.

Yunho reaches out for his hand again and starts tugging him along after Kyungjae-hyung towards the elevator doors. “I’m just saying.”

“Whatever,” grumbles Changmin. His fingers tighten. “I am bigger, though.”

Yunho feels like he’s been punched in the gut, but somehow he manages to keep walking. “Good to know,” he manages.

“I can fucking _smell you_!” shouts Kyungjae-hyung, and the two of them take off running, high off the thrill of it, and race him to the dorm by way of the stairs.

\--

Unfortunately, despite the comparative lightness of their schedules, they have very few spare moments to do more than continue to get caught in compromising positions all across the company.

Not for a lack of trying. Twelve minutes before they were due to arrive to the SM Exhibition photoshoot where everyone including their boss Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim _himself_ was milling around gossiping in an entire assortment of the color pink, Yunho was still fighting Changmin and their stylists off.

Changmin because he was already dressed and suitably polished, and their stylists, because Yunho pulled a late night hammering out choreography details with Jaewon-hyung and ended falling asleep in his practice clothes without so much as a bothering with an oil cleanse.

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho finally snaps, flushing, and shoves Changmin away so hard that the younger man actually stumbles a little.

His shoes scuff and squeak on the tile floor, and one of the other stylists lifts her head from where she’s busy primping Chilhyun-hyung.

Yunho ducks his head, immediately embarrassed, but Chilhyun-hyung just smiles and goes back to his phone.

He wishes Boa hadn’t arrived a full hour earlier and wasn’t already doing the rounds in the main exhibition hall. It would be nice to have her as a buffer.

Changmin is still looking at him, perfect mouth fighting not to pull down into an actual pout, and Yunho feels heat start to pool low in his belly.

His stylists makes a startled noise and flushes a little, but it’s Jooyoung-hyung who frowns and walks by carrying an actual spray bottle. After a mild pause, he sprays Changmin right in the face.

“Oppa,” one of the stylists protests frowning, but Changmin is too perfect to do more than shut his eyes and wait for them to pat him dry.

“Hyung,” he says.

“That’s for not keeping it in your pants,” Jooyoung-hyung says.

Yunho snickers.

Jooyoung-hyung turns the bottle on him. “Don’t act like you’re not the one who started it.”

Yunho raises both hands. “Save me,” he says.

Jooyoung-hyung rolls his eyes but retreats back over to their bags.

The stylists finish with Changmin’s face. Unfairly, he actually looks better than he had before, especially when they finish setting his bangs.

Yunho swallows.

Jooyoung-hyung lifts the hand with the spray bottle.

“Sorry,” Yunho mutters, and ducks his head.

“I think it’s nice,” the stylist-noona who’d been fiddling with his collar says. “Sweet, even.” She smiles, both at her work with Yunho’s collar--getting the pink tips just so had been a cause for grief, apparently--and at Yunho himself--apparently the fact that he and Changmin were newly dating was old news.

Which, to be fair, these people worked with them daily.

Still, Yunho drops his head, shy. “Thank you,” he says.

There’s a mild crash from his side. Jooyoung-hyung curses again.

Yunho gets a whiff of Changmin’s embarrassment but doesn’t turn to see why.

“You’re learning,” says Jooyoung-hyung.

“They’re ready for you,” another staff member says, intruding on their bubble in the makeshift dressing room with a polite bow. “KBS is here--”

Yunho tunes them out in favor of falling into step with Changmin. He wants to shove his bangs away from where they’ve fallen along his ears, but he knows better. Getting the fall of his hair right when it’s long like this has been something of a nightmare for their stylists, but the fans seem to enjoy it, so for now, it’s staying.

Changmin meets his eyes. “Hyung,” he says.

“We’ve been upgraded to cats,” Yunho says.

Changmin snorts and doesn’t reply, but nudges Yunho with his shoulder when they reach the door.

He’s immediately swallowed up by Kyuhyun and Minho, but Yunho finds Boa across the room laughing with their boss himself and doesn’t think much of it.

\--

The end of July passes sooner than expected, but between album preparation, choreography practice, and the stretch of performances alongside Boa for her comeback, Yunho doesn’t have time to talk to Changmin. And then August arrives with SM Town Tokyo, the SM Art Exhibition, and a whole string of fan events for Missha. By the time they actually sit down and have a breather, Yunho has already had a truly abysmal day.

He’s sat through his share of unfortunate and uncomfortable meetings, but the one that morning before their Missha fanmeet definitely takes the cake for unfortunate and uncomfortable. The SM higher up had been about as nice about it as possible, but really, it wasn’t like hearing that the company wasn’t entirely sure how they felt about letting him keep his hair long and fluffy for the comeback was an easy pill to swallow.

No one came out and said it because no one wanted to be the one who said it, but Yunho knew what they were thinking and they knew Yunho knew what they were thinking and so by the time he’s settling down next to Changmin in bed that evening, Yunho’s entire soul is aching.

Changmin isn’t asleep.

Yunho almost wishes he had been, because then he could settle himself across the younger man’s unfairly ripped alpha chest and nestle the top of his too-pretty, too-soft, omega haircut under the man’s unfairly perfect, alpha jawline and go the fuck to sleep. But instead, Changmin mumbles when Yunho drops down on top of him, and Changmin groans when Yunho presses into him.

“Yunho-hyung.”

“Changdol-ah,” Yunho replies. He just wants to go to sleep.

“What’ve we got tomorrow?” Changmin’s words are slurring.

“SM Town,” Yunho produces. “Tour VCRs. And, uh. SM Town period.”

Changmin yawns and somehow works an arm around Yunho’s waist. “Kay,” he says.

Definitely, probably, he’s two seconds from falling back to sleep.

“Do you think I look bad with my hair like this?” blurts Yunho, because he loves life, apparently, and can never let anything lie.

Changmin peels an eye open. “Is this a trick question?”

“You don’t count,” Yunho decides, frowning. “You’re in love with me--”

“True.” Changmin tightens his grip on Yunho’s waist and sighs out another yawn. “But you’re changing the subject.”

“Management thinks I should cut my hair,” Yunho mutters. “For comeback.”

Changmin blinks his eyes wider. “Oh?” He still seems to be half asleep, and all of a sudden Yunho is pissed about that.

“Changdol,” he pouts. He leans in to run his nose along Changmin’s throat, then, after a pause, shifts so that the spot just before his ear passes directly by Changmin’s lips.

The younger man moans, hand like a brand across Yunho’s hips, and rolls them suddenly so that Yunho is pinned under him. “Yunho-hyung,” he says, voice a rasp. “This is my bed.”

Yunho’s heartbeat stutters like a bird in a cage.

“You are an intruder.”

Yunho swallows hard.

“I was _sleeping_.” Somehow, Changmin has managed to keep from dropping his full weight across Yunho, but the swell of his dick is still apparent when Yunho shifts his feet out of the tangle of the blankets.

“Changdol-ah,” he manages.

Changmin’s eyelashes flutter. “Now,” he says. He doesn’t lean in closer but he doesn’t pull away, and Yunho wants to kill him. “What’s this about that perfect hair of yours?”

“It’s too long for my image,” Yunho says, which is code for ‘it makes me look too much like an omega.’

Changmin’s lips pull to one side. “Stop projecting,” he says.

Yunho sighs. “Changdol.”

“Stop projecting.” Changmin presses his hips down. “I think the entire company knows you could be in a princess dress and still be able to win most likely to succeed by virtue of dominance.”

Yunho mulls that over and has no good counter. “Yeah, well.”

“It’s still dumb,” says Changmin. He yawns again, which ruins some of his point, and has Yunho fighting the urge to sneeze in his face.

Changmin smiles. “What do they want to do with my hair?” he says.

“I don’t know,” Yunho lies. They hadn’t said anything about Changmin, just that perhaps they ought to give it a trim, or let it grow back out.

Almost as if reading Yunho’s mind, Changmin scowls. “They want me long again,” he guesses.

Yunho shrugs.

“Hypocrites,” says Changmin. He stops looming over Yunho and settles instead so that most of his weight is crushing one of Yunho’s arms. “They do realize we’re not Yunjae.”

Yunho winces. He hadn’t wanted to make the comparison, but well, there it was. Ugly and annoying and still a thorn in both their sides after three full years. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says finally. “Long bangs are annoying.”

Changmin lifts a hand to fluff them, pushing and pulling so that Yunho feels like some sort of expensive working dog and can’t see. “And yet you used to pet me and call me Bambi.”

“I called you Bambi because you have deer eyes,” Yuho says dryly, spitting out strands of his own hair. “Changdol--”

“I’ll make them cut mine too,” Changmin says. “Super short.”

Yunho stops fighting with his hair, and tries to tilt so that he can see Changmin.

“I will,” says his maknae, and only blushes a little when he finishes with Yunho’s hair. He leaves it parted down the middle so Yunho can see, but Yunho still feels very much like some sort of cartoon. “You really do look like some sort of anime,” Changmin mutters.

Yunho’s stomach flip-flops, as it always does when he and Changmin think alike.

Changmin’s eyebrows furrow. “Why do you do that?” he says.

Yunho reaches up to rake his bangs off his forehead period. “Do what?”

“Go pleased-happy when I read your mind?” Changmin doesn’t sound like he expects Yunho to fight him on the mind reading thing.

“Because it makes me pleased-happy?” Yunho laughs a little. “Duh.”

Changmin drops a hand onto Yunho’s chest and then keeps it there. “Rude.”

Yunho shifts so that Changmin’s palm encompasses his nipple. “Honest,” he says.

Changmin pauses, darts a look between Yunho’s face and pectoral, and then rubs a thumb in one quick circle. “Rude,” he says.

The temperature very abruptly rockets up several degrees.

“Honest,”’ Yunho says again.

“But you’re distracting me,” says Changmin, pulling his hand back and not taking the bait like Yunho’d wanted.

“Changminnie--”

“SM Town tomorrow.” Changmin is as always too practical. “With all of us?”

Yunho nods.

“That’ll take literal hours. We’ll be there until the morning.”

Yunho sighs. He has a point.

“So?” Changmin lifts an eyebrow and shifts so that Yunho no longer has to lose feeling in his left arm. It also means it’s easy for Yunho to roll onto his side, easy for them to end up nose to nose with their breath mingling together between them. It’s warm and lovely and soothing.

Yunho sighs.

“ _So_ … why do you go pleased-happy whenever I read your mind?” Changmin asks again.

“It reminds me how lucky I am, to have found you,” Yunho says.

Changmin stares back at him, clearly not having expected that answer.

“I--” Yunho doesn’t know how to say it. “I want to mate with you.”

Changmin’s beautiful eyes blink. “You what?”

Yunho doesn’t roll away, unashamed. “You heard me.” He keeps meeting Changmin’s eyes.

Changmin doesn’t look away. “No… I… don’t you think it’s too soon?”

“I’ve been in love with you since 2011,” says Yunho.

Changmin makes a noise. “Hyung.”

“Probably since before,” Yunho says. “Probably since--”

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin interrupts. “Don’t--”

“Don’t what, Changmin?” Yunho says. “Tell you the truth--”

“Focus on the past,” Changmin corrects, voice still not all the way normal. “It’s… there’s no point.”

“My point is of course I want to mate you,” Yunho says. “How could I not?”

Changmin swallows. His throat bobs. “Aren’t you afraid?”

Yunho leans in and Changmin leans back. “No,” he says, hurt. “Why… are you?”

“What if it doesn’t take?” Changmin asks instead. “What if you bite me and it doesn’t take?”

Yunho’s eyes narrow. “Then you’re not in love with me,” he starts to say.

“I am, though.” Changmin’s eyes are wide like saucers but he somehow still manages to avoid Yunho’s. “I really am.”

“Then… it’ll take,” Yunho says. “Changminnie.”

“But what if it _doesn’t_ ,” blurts Changmin, and finally he’s looking at him. Really looking at him with his eyes wide and brown and worried and still, somehow as mesmerizing as ever. Yunho’s been naming eyes as his favorite feature on women since practically when they started asking them for favorites. Changmin’s eyes are unfair. But his mouth--his words--his words are even more concerning.

“Changmin,” Yunho says. “What are you saying--”

“What if I love you and you love me but it doesn’t take because we’re not _soulmates_ ,” says Changmin and then, immediately, rolls to the side like he wants to get out of bed.

Yunho vocalizes a protests, a hand gripping fruitlessly at the sheets between them in one quick, half-aborted move because if Changmin wants to leave he’s not going to stop him. “This is your bed,” he says. “I’ll go, if you want.” He sits up.

Changmin makes another punched noise. “No, I.” He swallows again. “Hyung.”

Yunho keeps looking at him.

“I’m not good enough,” Changmin enunciates, and it sounds horrible hearing him to try to find the words, but Yunho needs to hear them anyway. “How can I be good enough when I let them.” He breaks off and his brow furrows, and then he’s sitting up as well. He swings his legs over the of the bed and stops, head bowed, shoulders tense.

Yunho stares at the slope of him and wants to reach across the bed with all of his soul. “Changdol-ah,” he says.

“I let them leave you,” Changmin says. He turns back to Yunho again, face serious, eyes wet-looking, and mouth bitten raw. “I let them leave you. You left me with them and I let them. I let them leave--”

“Changmin,” Yunho says, mind racing to put the pieces together. _Heading to the Ground_. JYJ. Deposition prep. _We’ve sued the company, how was your flight?_

“Don’t try to tell me I didn’t,” Changmin says. “I was the only one there and I’m an--” He breaks off, throat already swallowing the start of that sentence but unable to catch himself fast enough.

Yunho feels himself go cold. He stops reaching for Changmin, who swings his legs back up on the bed and meets him all the way. “A what?” he says, voice careful.

Changmin seems to curl in on himself, guilt heavy in every movement. “Yunho-hyung,” he says, miserable. His palms settle onto his thighs.

“An alpha?” Yunho says, tone dangerous. The mess of self-deprecation from his day of meetings comes back in full force. “And I’m what, too omega to have made them stay--”

“ _In love with you_ ,” Changmin near whisper-shouts. “ _I’m in love with you_ and I was supposed to take care of you--I wanted to take care of you--”

Yunho isn’t equipped to deal with the sudden barrage of bared feelings.

“How can I be yours if I can’t take care of you?” Changmin finishes, and he sounds simultaneously near-sick with the relief of it and near-sick at the exposure of it.

Yunho swallows. “Changdol-ah,” he says.

“Don’t you ‘Changdol-ah’ me,” snaps Changmin. “It’s a valid fear--”

“Changdol-ah,” Yunho says, shifting to kneeling on the bed, and then reaching back out to palm one of Changmin’s perfect cheekbones. “I’m in love with you.”

Changmin’s throat swallows.

“You’re in love with me.”

Changmin’s chin nods.

“How can I not be yours, then?”

“I dunno.” Changmin won’t meet his eyes. “What if it doesn’t take?”  

“I guess you’re not in love with me, then,” Yunho says, and starts to pull his hand away.

Changmin’s hands unclench from his thighs and come up to grab him before he can, one circling Yunho’s wrist and the other settling on top of it until Yunho isn’t cupping Changmin’s cheek so much as Changmin is holding it pressed against his own cheek. “That’s not fair,” Changmin says.

Yunho sighs. “Changmin--”

“You’re not going to convince me,” Changmin says, but doesn’t let go.

Yunho tugs their hands down between them and leans further in so that they’re breathing the same air again. “Aren’t your parents mated?”

Changmin won’t meet his eyes. “Of course,” he mutters. “You’ve met them. You know it was the only thing that stopped my dad’s parents from throwing a fit--”

“Are my parents mated?” says Yunho.

“Hyung,” Changmin. “I get it--”

“Are Kyuhyun’s parents--”

Changmin darts in to kiss him. “I get it,” he says up against the seam of Yunho’s mouth. “You don’t have to go naming our entire friend group.”

Yunho takes a deep breath. “Are Heechul-hyung’s parents--”

“Hyung.” Changmin doesn’t kiss him again, and Yunho is almost disappointed. “If you want me to kiss you, you could just ask,” Changmin says.

Yunho’s heart does the thing again.

Changmin’s smiles stutters.

“I’m not going to apologize for being happy,” Yunho says. “You may not be sure, but I am.”

Changmin scowls, but finally lets go of Yunho’s hand. He shifts into a more comfortable position on the bed, folding his legs better underneath him and sighing. “I’m sorry,” he starts to say.

Yunho’s the one darting in for a silencing kiss this time, which he keeps a peck through force of will, despite the way Changmin’s breath hitches. “What?” he manages. “It’s only fair.”

Changmin seems to hum an affirmative.

Yunho pulls back slightly. “Don’t be sorry.” He inhales and exhales to clear his head. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Changmin looks mildly surprised. “What?”

“We can blame it on heat?” Yunho tries.

Changmin’s head tilts to one side.

“I just want to be with you,” Yunho clarifies. “And you… want to be with me…?”

“Of course.” Changmin says it like he can’t quite believe Yunho even has to _ask_. His hands are atop his knees again, and Yunho moves to set his own over them. Changmin’s breath hisses out between his teeth.

“So let’s just do that,” says Yunho. “Everything else is just… white noise.”

“White noise,” says Changmin.

Yunho lets go of his hands and takes him by the shoulders so he can very gently lay him back down. “Red Oceans?” he tries. “Tokyo Dome?”

“The _Catch Me Tour_ ,” says Changmin, letting Yunho arrange him on the bed, and then, with a almost normal grin, twisting them around so that Yunho’s the one being used as a pillow this time. “The _Catch Me_ album.”

“Dobermans,” Yunho agrees.

Changmin snorts. “I knew you liked that concept.”

“It’s the leashes,” Yunho says.

Changmin blinks.

“Also, like, all the photos had blindfolds.”

Changmin blinks some more.

“Mine at least,” clarifies Yunho. “Blindfolds are sexy,” he adds. “Not as sexy as you, but.” Yunho shrugs. “You in a blindfold, I mean.” He really has no idea how they’ve gotten here, but he can’t seem to stop. “Or me? In a blindfold?” He truly _cannot_ get his mouth to stop.

Changmin’s cheeks have gone bright red. “Yunho-hyung!”

Yunho is red too. “My heat!” he blames desperately. “Let’s blame that on my heat too!”

“It is fucking _August!_ ” says Changmin. “Who goes into heat in fucking _August_!”

“You know what, instead, let’s just go to sleep!” says Yunho, and drops his head onto Changmin’s pillow and shuts his eyes.

“I’m in love with an idiot,” Changmin says, sounding very much like he cannot believe himself, but Yunho is too busy shutting out the world and trying not to burst into horrified flames. “Just for that, you can be the one to tell Kyungjae-hyung we don’t actually need that family planning meeting.”

That makes Yunho open his eyes. “Changdol- _ah_ ,” he protests.

“Nope,” Changmin says. “You said the thing, so you’re doing it.”

“I don’t think it will take after all,” Yunho mutters, and then feels immediately bad.

Changmin doesn’t even seemed phased. “I love you too,” he says. “Even if you went from ‘marry me’ to ‘tie me up’ in less than twenty minutes.”

Yunho snarls.

“Now go to bed, Hyung. We have an early schedule tomorrow.”

They sleep.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Comments** and **retweets** and **kudos** really do make my day and make me want to keep writing and updating faster!!!
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/172774730870/title-my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/983491846172180480)


	13. sizzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KINAH'S GIF IS SO GOOD EVERYONE. IT'S SO GOOD. I'M SO EMOTIONAL. Anyway, this is a day early update b/c ABO AU IS ON PAGE 1 OF HOMIN FICS WHEN SORTING BY KUDOS. 
> 
> I'm so happy and thankful and amazed. You're all amazing and I can't thank you all enough.
> 
> Betaed by Kinah and Hexmen as always, all other mistakes my own.

**13\. Sizzle**

\--

“Yunho-yah,” says Boa, two days later. “You aren’t a virgin.”

Yunho had been in the middle of what he thought was a perfectly decent and normal conversation with his friend about TVXQ’s latest choreography--and Changmin’s insistence on whining about the fact that Tony-hyung was putting him on his back and on his front _mid_ -chorus--but he stops, startled, embarrassed, and inclined to start blushing.

“Bo-nim,” he says, and bats at her helplessly a few times.

Boa takes the swatting without breaking eye contact. “What?” she says. “You’re not.”

“ _Bo-nim_ ,” Yunho says again, not at all sure what to say to that. On the one hand, no, he’s not. On the other hand, _what in the world was supposed to have been the sequitur_?

Boa steeples her fingers together underneath her chin and leans in. “Yunho-yah,” she says again. “You are not a virgin. Changminnie is not a virgin--”

Yunho can feel metaphorical dog ears practically prick up on top of his head. “Yah. What--”

“So please put us all out of our misery and _sit on his dick_ \--” Boa raises her voice at the tail end of her sentence with far more glee than Yunho thinks is entirely necessary.

“Bo- _nim_ ,” he manages.

“--Before someone snaps and murders the both of you.”

“Boa-yah,” Yunho settles on finally. “How--how does that have anything to do with ‘Catch Me?’” His voice is very high and shrill at the end but that’s really all he can focus on at the moment. They’d been talking about the title song, and Boa was only in the room to begin with because she’d seen Yunho sitting alone and early and thought she’d monopolize his time and the junk food he was snacking on guiltily. He’d seen her at the SM Town Korean air shoot, of course, and he’d be seeing her the rest of the week for SM Town Seoul, but when she wandered into the room, Yunho had steered their conversation towards the new choreography.

Yunho has no idea what ‘Catch Me’ has to do with his maybe desire to sit on Changmin’s dick.

Yunho’s face feels like it’s on fire. “Boa-yah,” he says again. “What--how--”

Boa leans back. “Everything,” she answers. “Nothing.”

Yunho feels a headache coming on. “Boa-yah--”

“How long has it been since you pulled your head out of your ass and actually spoke to him?” asks Boa.

Yunho does quick math. “Well,” he says. “Almost a month?”

Boa mulls that over in two seconds flat. “And… you’ve done _what_? Exactly?”

Yunho frowns. “I didn’t know we were those kind of friends,” he says.

Boa’s the one smacking him now. “Yah, don’t act like it’s different because I’m a woman,” she says. “I’m an alpha. I’m probably also the only one likely to give you actual useful information, unlike Heechul-oppa.” She makes a face. “Is it true you’ve never seen an alpha dick before, though, because that makes me want to renege on my virginity claim--”

“Kwon Boa!” Yunho shrieks, right as the door to the practice room swings open and Tony-hyung wanders in accompanied by Hosik-hyung.

Yunho is thankful both that he sent Hosik-hyung off to fetch Tony-hyung and Changmin and that the man entered the room after Tony-hyung, since of the two of them, their choreographer needs a translator and can only so much as tilt his head to the side and parrot back, “alpha?” under his breath.

Thank God for loan words.

“Tony-hyung, hi,” Yunho says, on his feet and bowing, pointedly making sure to step on Boa’s toes on his way, and not so kindly making introductions between the two of them like they haven’t met. “Boa was just leaving.”

Boa switches to English flawlessly, taking Tony-hyung’s hand to humor Yunho--“ _Hello_ , _Tony_ ,”--before making her way around the two men with a mock salute back towards Yunho. She doesn’t run into Changmin, just sidesteps and pats him once on the shoulder, before vanishing out of the room to what Yunho is helpless to imagine as anything less than a round of applause.

Will he ever aspire to the level of impressiveness that is Kwon “Queen of Kpop” Boa?

Probably not.

Changmin is holding a water bottle and staring somewhat helplessly after Boa, mouth open and headphones in.

Jooyoung-hyung not-so-gently grabs him by the arms and shifts him to the side so that he can get into the room as well. “A couple of overseas hits and already they’re stopping in doorways,” the man mutters.

“Boa? Noona?” Changmin says, unconcerned by his manager’s sass.

“You’re late,” Yunho says, ignoring this, and Boa, even as he swears he can hear his friend cackling her way down the hall.

“Sorry,” says Changmin. “But it’s only us at practice today.”

“Only us at practice today,” Yunho repeats, eyes rolling, as Jooyoung-hyung and Hosik-hyung set about arranging the cameras over by the mirrors. They always film practice, but they’re getting down to the wire with the song to the point where Yunho knows soon enough their stylists are going to pull him and Changmin aside for consultations and film the ‘official’ dance practice.

“Yeah.” Changmin looks at Yunho long and hard. “Because tomorrow it’s all of us. At the venue. Hyung--”

“You’re late,” Yunho says again, and, before he can help himself, kisses him. It’s because of the look on his face, he decides. Changmin’s hair is still long and dark and falling into his eyes, but the kicker is the matching work-out clothes their stylists have not-so-casually forced him and Yunho into. It makes something pleasant and warm unfurl in Yunho’s belly. _Me and Changminnie_ match, he thinks.

“Hyung.” Changmin doesn’t seem too bothered by the kiss--his lips are quirking up at the corners almost like he can’t help himself--but the honorific is a reality check, and so Yunho glances guilty over towards their managers and choreographer.

Everyone knows, of course, because they’re not subtle in the slightest--apparently their older staff all had a running bet going and Myunghwan-hyung won the thing by a landslide. Also, as Kyungjae-hyung told them the moment he arrived to collect them for The Mission in Saitama, that was kind of the entire _point_ of pheromones in the first place. They were lucky they’d already started to smell like they lived and breathed together--because they did.

But the fact remains Yunho doesn’t like to flaunt it, first because Changmin seems less inclined to want to do so (although Yunho’s curious how April is going to go because the way Heechul-hyung had started cackling hysterically about it when Yunho asked him was worrying and also intriguing). Second, well. Part of him was still scared shitless it wouldn’t work out.

“Yunho-hyung.”

It’s possible Yunho has tuned out for far too long. “Sorry,” he says.

Changmin dips his head. “What are you doing?”

Yunho stares at him. “Um.”

“Why’d you kiss me?” Changmin clarifies, not bothering to lower his tone.

Yunho pauses. “Uh… ”

“Did you miss me?” Changmin’s definitely playing at something. He’s pulled his headphones out--Yunho definitely tuned out for far too long--and he’s got his hands stuffed in his sweatshirt’s pockets but he’s smirking at Yunho and dragging one foot along the floor in loose, distracting circles.

Yunho’s eyes narrow. “No,” he says.

“Good,” Changmin says. “Because you saw me this morning.”

Yunho wants to bite at his lower lip. “Right,” he concedes.

“Also, I’d like to think if you’d really missed me enough to throw decorum out the window and go for it--”

“Go for it?” Yunho repeats back.

“Lord help me,” someone he thinks is Hosik-hyung mutters.

“We should move the tape,” Tony-hyung says through his translator, but Yunho doesn’t really need the woman, since he’s pointing down at their makeshift marker for the end of the stage. “Or the camera?”

Yunho turns away from the man’s miming with bemusement.

“That was a grandmother kiss,” Changmin says, and Yunho’s attention is caught.

Maybe he should worry about that.

“A grandmother kiss?” Yunho asks instead.

Changmin’s beautiful mouth purses into a parody of a kiss. “Grandmother’s kiss,” he says. “Mom’s kiss. The type of kiss you give a family member or your in-laws--”

“I should hope you’re not going around kissing my parents,” Yunho says automatically, and then winces. “Shit, sorry,” he says, ducking his head. “I promised--”

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin doesn’t look bothered. “I know I’m gorgeous and you want to be with me forever, but can we please not talk about your parents and kissing in the same sentence?”

Yunho’s heart skips a beat. “You said it first,” he says.

Changmin waves a hand. “But less grossly.”

“There wasn’t anything gross about how I said it,” protests Yunho.

“You know what should be gross,” interjects Changmin, and he walks himself forwards a few steps so that he can drop both palms on Yunho’s biceps. “How I want you to kiss me after you’ve missed me.”

Yunho’s heart should probably be fired, given how very little it’s doing in terms of beating, which is its actual, fucking job. “Changdol-ah,” he says. “Are you--are we flirting?”

There’s a beat.

Changmin takes his hands back.

Yunho makes a garbled sounding noise in the back of his throat. “No wait--forget I said that--” He takes a desperate step and grab towards Changmin. “Changdol--”

“No, the moment is gone,” says his bandmate, turning on his heel to start warming up in the center of the room. “I gave you the perfect opportunity to slam me against a wall and what did you do with it?”

The door to the practice room had been opening once again to reveal the swarm of their dancers, but very quickly Hyoje--the unfortunate sacrificial lamb--pulls it closed with a loud groan of, “they’re doing it again. They’re _flirting_ \--”

Yunho focuses on that, stumbling away from the door embarrassedly because it wasn’t like they made a point to flirt too obviously or all the time or anything. “We were flirting. I knew that. Fuck--Changdol--”

“You talked about me kissing your dad and then acted like we were in grade school,” Changmin finishes, and folds over himself into a stretch.

Hyoje and the rest of the dancers file into the room.

Yunho stares down at the slope of Changmin’s back with his cheeks on fire.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Jooyoung-hyung says. “Can you get in formation--”

“It’s almost like we’ve never done this before,” mutters Soobin, but he’s young and can get away with it.

Haechang-hyung gently cuffs him on the ear.

Yunho bites back a grin.

Then he turns his attention back to the still bent over Changmin, because how dare he. Yunho is _not_ the embarrassed one. Yunho _does_ the embarrassing! Yunho’s been saying absurd near-fanservicey things since month one of their comeback when  he loudly interrupted Donghee-hyung’s one-on-one with Changmin about the song _Confession_ to confess that he knew the thing was about Yunho himself!

Changmin still hasn’t unfolded from his stretch. Yunho glares down at his perfectly shaped head, and then pauses. Changmin’s ears are in full view now because of gravity’s pull on his hair, and they’re blushing for sure.

Yunho narrows his eyes.

“Jooyoung-hyung!”

Hoshik-hyung and Jooyoung-hyung simultaneously turn from where they’ve been fiddling with technology over by the mirrors.

“Changminnie and I are going to have a water break!” And Yunho grabs Changmin by the wrist--“What? Hyung--”--and pulls him out of the practice room to the sounds of their newest and youngest dancer saying, “but we have water bottles?”

“They’re going to give you hell for that,” Changmin says, but interlaces his fingers with Yunho anyway.

“You just want to get laid,” says Yunho. He doesn’t mean it badly of course, because that would be hypocritical, especially since the moment he finds a corner he’s letting Changmin back him up against a wall with his eyes half lidded and his tongue peeking out from behind his teeth. “I missed you, Changdol-ah,” Yunho says.

“Show me how much,” Changmin says.

They are horrifically late to practice.

\--

The day after SM Town Seoul, Yunho texts Boa: _What did you mean about virginity, though_?

They’ve just landed in Osaka for A-Nation, and Yunho is tired from the passport fiasco, irrationally annoyed that Changmin flew on without him, and worried their performance is going to suffer because of the resultant reduction in practice time they’re going to have before the show.

Probably, that’s why he says the thing. Also, there’s no way Changmin will come to the airport with Sungchang-hyung to pick him up, and so this is the safest time to inquire.

“We’re going straight to the venue,” Sungchang-hyung says, around the same time Boa responds. “Changmin’s meeting us at arrivals and then you have fittings and a soundcheck before the actual stage.”

Yunho glances up from his phone. “Why is he meeting us?” he says. “Wouldn’t it be easier to meet him there--”

“Am I the one who as good as wants to marry him?” Sungchang-hyung says. “Yunho-yah.”

“Sorry, Hyung,” Yunho says, chastened. It’s his fault that they were late, because he’s the one who had passport issues. He’s glad for his sunglasses.

Sungchang-hyung lapses back into silence.

Yunho turns his attention back towards Boa’s message.

 _How far have the two of you gone_? his friend has replied almost immediately. _I’m not sending you dick pics, but like. I need to know before I can answer you_.

Yunho nearly trips and kills himself in front of their incredibly polite and lovely Japanese staff. He doesn’t, because he’s a professional, but it’s a near, near thing. _I have been with alpha women before_ , he tells Boa. _Also_. He breaks off. _I can’t say via phone_. _What if it gets stolen_?

 _It’s cute that you think you admitting to having watched porn is what’s going to ruin your career_ , replies his friend. _So, if you’ve been fucked before, what’s the problem?_

Yunho pauses. _I haven’t_ , he types quickly, and then goes to shove his phone too quickly into his pocket. He misses.

The phone clatters to the airport floor with a too loud clang.

Some of the fans who’ve managed to get in past security alongside them whisper amongst themselves.

Yunho has never been more glad that they’re in Osaka, because official Bigeast policy is to not take airport photos, and nobody needs HD photos of the truly astonishing shade of red his face is at the moment.  

He bends to grab the phone, bows helplessly, and speeds up so that he’s level with Ishikawa-san.

They make a few turns and vanish into the more secluded parts of the airport without the fans, collect their suitcases, and make it almost to the company vans before Sunchang-hyung breaks his silence. “What’s wrong with you?” he says.

“Nothing.” Yunho’s phone feels hot where he’s still gripping it in his hand, but he doesn’t want to look down and see what Boa has said.

Sungchang-hyung reaches out to take the phone from him, and Yunho pulls it tight to his chest.

“Nothing!” he says again, voice shrill, and steps hurriedly into the van.

Changmin is on his own phone, sitting in the middle seat of the front row, wearing an outfit not at all fit for practice, and looking unimpressed by the two of them. “You’re late,” he says.

Yunho slides into the seat next to him still holding his phone desperately. “Sorry,” he says. “Why are you here?”

“It’s on the way, and it’s easier,” Changmin says. “What’s wrong with your phone?”

“Nothing!” Yunho says again, for the third time, but Changmin, unlike their manager, gives zero fucks, and reaches out to wrestle it from Yunho anyway. “Why is Boa-noona laughing at you?” he says, twisting so that Yunho’s seatbelt--curse Sungchang-hyung for buckling him when he was distracted--keeps him from taking the phone back. “Wait, she’s stopped,” Changmin goes on, before reading what Boa’s sent. “‘ _I take back what I said to you the other day I understand now this makes so much sense of course you’re a virgin--_ ’ Could it kill her to use punctuation--wait, virgin--what--”

Yunho takes his phone back with full force. “Just inside jokes!” he says. “It’s an inside joke! We’re--we’re talking about _other_ things--!”

Changmin’s got an odd hazy look on his face. “Yunho-hyung,” he says slowly. “Are you a virgin?”

There’s a beat.

From behind them in the van, Sungchang-hyung pulls himself up to his full height. “Absolutely not,” he says. “You.” He points at Yunho, who points at himself a little helplessly as if to make sure. “No talking until we’ve reached the venue.”

“But I--”

“You!” Sungchang-hyung is unrelenting, gesturing towards their Driver with unwavering seriousness, telling the other man to start driving. “You!” He’s pointing at Changmin now, who looks no less shocked and startled than Yunho feels. “You’re on greeting duty when we get to Nagai Stadium.”

“Me?” Changmin sounds surprised. “Me? But, Hyung.”

“No buts,” snaps Sungchang-hyung. “‘ _Are you a virgin?_ ’ Kyungjae did _not_ warn me enough for this--”

Yunho tunes the man out in favor of smiling beatifically towards Changmin. “It’ll be good practice for your Japanese?” he says.

“I’m fluent,” says Changmin.

“Practice never hurt anyone, though,” says Yunho.

“You’re sleeping on the couch,” snaps Changmin.

Sungchang-hyung’s eyes narrow.

“That’s fine, Changdol,” Yunho says, not loudly, but carefully choosing each word just in case someone has bugged their van or something; he’s not sure what Sungchang-hyung is annoyed for, but he’s not risking it. “Given we each have our own rooms in Japan anyway.”

“I will fire you,” says Sungchang-hyung, but even he has to conceded nobody’s really listening in at this point.

“ _I’m_ sleeping on the couch,” Changmin growls, and kicks Yunho when he opens his mouth to protest.

“A. Nation,” says Sungchang-hyung. “Career. Making.”

“We’ve done it before,” Yunho and Changmin chorus. “Multiple times.”

“I’ll _fire_ you,” Sungchang-hyung snaps. “Drive.”

Driver-san drives, shoulders shaking with barely concealed laughter.

\--

Changmin wakes Yunho up in the middle of the night by flopping unceremoniously across his chest. “This isn’t the couch,” Yunho manages, which really isn’t the most important thing he should be focusing on--neither of them are wearing shirts, because Changmin sleeps shirtless and Yunho hadn’t had the energy for more than collapsing into the first bed he could find with his performance hoodie half off his shoulders while Changmin grumbled at him and divested him of his shoes--but it’s where his brain is regardless. Luckily Changmin’s wearing pajama bottoms and Yunho’s in boxers, so there’s no cause for concern.

Yunho still fumbles around on the bed so that he can try to drag the sheets up over his nipples, though.

“Yah, stop,” Changmin says, batting at his hands. “Stop. I’m sleeping. This is my bed.”

Yunho peels open an eye to squint over at his alarm clock and finds no such thing, and then squints over to the opposite bedside for Changmin’s.

“It’s four a.m.,” he determines.

“Had to skype Kyu,” Changmin says. “He got a new wine--wanted to make me suffer--also, _this is my bed_. Why do I have to explain myself to you--”

Yunho shoves a hand down to cover his mouth and silence him. “Too much talking for four a.m.,” he mumbles, and closes his eyes again.

Thankfully, Changmin doesn’t bite him.

Unfortunately, one of Yunho’s fingers might be in Changmin’s mouth.

Terribly, Changmin darts his tongue around the digit and _sucks_.

Yunho’s eyes fly open around the same time his mouth rounds out a moan, embarrassment painting both cheeks and the sensation waking him the fuck up immediately. He tries to pull his hand back frantically, heart racing, but Changmin’s teeth stop him. “Sorry!”

Changmin stares back at him balefully around the finger in his mouth, and goes in for another suck.

Yunho takes back everything he said about the boxers and pajamas pants thing. They’re doing nothing. Nothing is being done at _all_ by those two failing scraps of fabric, because when Changmin shifts Yunho can feel what is definitely his _dick_ , warm, and hard and doing _things_ at the base that make Yunho’s stomach squirmy and his heart _race_.

He yanks his hand free of Changmin’s mouth desperately and shouts, “I am a virgin! The only thing I’ve ever put up there is Kyungtae and I can _guarantee_ you’re bigger!”

And then he wants to die.

He just wants to die.

He wants to roll out of Changmin’s bed and keep rolling until he’s underneath Changmin’s bed and stay there until the currently non-existent dust bunnies take form and swallow him whole.

Yunho drags the hand he’d had in Changmin’s mouth up over his face and breathes frantically through his nose. “Fuck,” he swears. “Can we just pretend I didn’t say anything?”

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin seems perfectly composed.

Yunho risks opening an eye just because.

His bandmate is staring back at him still atop his chest, but at least he seems to be making a point to keep their lower halves from touching now. His mouth looks wet, and Yunho wants to shut his eyes and continue with plan roll-and-be-eaten-by-dust-bunnies. But he doesn’t look like he’s going to laugh or anything, just looks--

Well, the honest description might be _painfully controlled_ and composed.

Yunho lets his hand down. “Changmin-ah?”

“Listen,” Changmin says. “Have I been pressuring you?”

“Boa has,” Yunho says. “And Heechul-hyung. Shit. I mean. It’s just that I want you to _mate_ me--I mean. Fuck.” Yunho puts his arm back over his face and tries not to scream. “It’s four a.m. and we just did A-Nation _._ This is unfair to me.”

Changmin sits up in bed. “Yunho-hyung,” he says.  “Do you want me to go sleep on the couch?”

“No!” Yunho nearly shouts, sitting up after him and grabbing him frantically. “No, I just. I’ve never done this before,” he settles on. He manages a smile. “My dad kind of forced it down my throat that I’d be an alpha.”

Changmin settles cross-legged onto the bed. “I’ve never been with an omega before, either,” he says.

Yunho blinks.

“If we’re sharing,” finishes Changmin. He rubs at the back of his neck.

“But you’re not a virgin--”

“No,” Changmin says, almost too quickly and helplessly. “Listen, we could just do it the other way around--”

“I’m not a virgin either,” Yunho says, at the same time, because he should share as well. “I mean I’ve been with women.” He hasn’t had time to figure out how to be with men. He hasn’t had time to figure out how to be with anyone, to be fair. “Alphas, mostly, but I’ve never. I mean I’ve only--”

Changmin eyes have gone half dark, but Yunho’s brain has finally digested what he just said.

“Wait--the other way around--”

“Look, Hyung, I love you.” Every time Changmin says it, it’s like he’s embarrassed and giddy and besotted all over again.

Yunho feels warm all over.

“And you love me… ”

“Do I need to kiss you again to say how much I miss you?” Yunho says.

Changmin pats him on the arm. “Aish.”

Yunho wants to giggle but settles for just sort of curling into him.

“We’ve both had sex before.”

“Clearly,” Yunho says, eyes darting down the expanse of Changmin’s perfectly sculpted body.

“ _Obviously_ ,” Changmin counters, and does the same to Yunho’s less sculpted body that on most days he thinks is worthy of such a leer. “But sex between us is always going to be a big deal--”

“I’ll say,” Yunho mutters.

“One because pregnancy--”

“Oh God,” Yunho says, because the memory of Kyungjae-hyung telling him straightforwardly that if the two of them ever decided to go off suppressants at the same time for some romantic, stupid reason--his words, not Yunho’s--he, or someone else far newer to the company would have be present outside the door to ensure that a condom was used _or else_ \--

“And two, because it wouldn’t be practice with you.’

There’s a pause.

Yunho rolls that sentence around in his head a little. “I’m sorry, what?” he says.

“Shit,” Changmin says. “Never mind--look, we’re both clearly very tired, and we have an early flight tomorrow--”

“What did you mean practice, though--yah, Shim Changmin--”

Changmin gets up out of his bed, grabs his phone, and flees out the door.

Yunho nearly trips in his haste to chase him down.

“I need to use the bathroom!” Changmin whisper shouts so as not to wake their staff, before shoving into said bathroom without even turning the lights on.

Yunho waits helplessly outside the room for the lights to go on.

They don’t.

“Changmin-ah,” he says.

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin sounds like he’ll commit murder. “We are very close.”

“Uh, yeah,” Yunho says.

“But we are _not_ close enough for me to take a _shit_ in front of you--”

“Fuck, sorry!” Yunho says, one hand slapped automatically in front of his eyes, and already backing away from the door frantically so that he can go back to his own room this time. His own, actual bed.

He lies there staring at the ceiling for a long while, the words, ‘do you want to do it the other way around’ and ‘practice’ floating around his head like a baby’s mobile.

Changmin exits the bathroom what feels like hours later and retreats back to his own room silently.

It only occurs to Yunho the next morning, yawning his way back through the airport song and dance, that Changmin hadn’t flushed the toilet. Or washed his hands. Or done anything to suggest he was in the bathroom to use the bathroom.

\--

Yunho gets his haircut. He does it with grace, because the cut is good, but he does it with his heart feeling funny, because he’d been starting to like the length of it. They recolor his roots and style him until he’s perfect, before sending him off to join Changmin at some sort of SM event.

Changmin takes one look at him and drags him around a corner so that he can stick his tongue down Yunho’s throat.

“I take it I look good,” Yunho says in between brutal, bruising kisses. His hair feels stiff and over-styled but when the stylists had been blow drying it dry, the way it fell across his brows had reminded him very much of his _Mirotic_ styling.  

Changmin makes a parched sounding noise and presses Yunho even harder against the wall. “Unfairly so,” he says.

Yunho hums, pleased, and shuts his eyes so he can get the full effect of Changmin’s mouth.

“Can’t believe you didn’t want to let them do this,” Changmin continues, and Yunho would protest--he still doesn’t support the thinking behind his new look--but Yunho would also like to continue getting kissed within an inch of his life up against a very nice wall, so he closes his eyes and fists a hand in Changmin’s own hair and moans.

Changmin’s arousal is palpable and stinging at the roof of Yunho’s mouth.

He sighs.

“Jooyoung-hyung is going to kill us,” Changmin manages finally, pulling back so that they can both breathe. “We’re supposed to be taking photos.”

“We can just take the one,” Yunho says. “With. Uh. Who, again?”

“Nobody,” Jooyoung-hyung says, tone unimpressed and making Yunho and Changmin jump what feels like three feet in the air.

“Fuck,” Yunho swears in dialect. “You scared me.”

Changmin just steps away from Yunho with both hands raised.

Kyungjae-hyung takes a whiff in their general direction. “Do I have to separate you physically too?” he says.

“Yunho-hyung is wearing a white t-shirt,” Changmin explains, and then colors. “I mean-- _fuck_ \--” he breaks off.

Jooyoung-hyung stares at them both. “I’m going to let your stylists know that it’s okay if you look like a prepubescent teenager,” he says politely, towards Changmin, before turning on his heel.

“Wait. What--” says Changmin, following after him helplessly. “Hyung, don’t--”

Yunho blinks.

\--

They make it all of three weeks.

The first, Yunho debuts his new hair at Gimpo heading to Tokyo, and Changmin nearly gets them arrested in the bathroom at Haneda. Sungchang-hyung is less than impressed. Kyungjae-hyung sends Yunho disappointed KakaoTalk emoji. Yunho doesn’t really feel very sorry.

The second is spent in and out of rehearsals, and with Changmin finally getting his hair cut short to match Yunho’s in time for the music video. They dye him orange, also, which is really the only thing keeping him from looking _too_ much like how he’d been at sixteen, but Changmin still grumbles and fusses over it, rubbing at and pulling at his ears.

“You asked them for it,” Yunho says, after one such session, an itch starting in the back of his throat.

Changmin doesn’t stop touching his ears, but Yunho figures it’s becaused he’s trying to hide how pink they’re going. “Yeah, well, the alternative was letting them keep it long,” he mutters. “To match you.” _To put us back into roles_ , he doesn’t say.

Yunho’s throat wants to cough. “Ah,” he says.

And so ends week two, and three, and come Tuesday they’re filming _God of Victory_. Yunho woke up sick, went through mic checks annoyed, and has spent most of the shoot trying his hardest not to murder Changmin for being both overbearing and overachieving.

The youngest has at least stopped groaning about his hair, and has finally caught on to the fact that Yuno definitely has a fever, now, but still (typically) hasn’t managed to be nice about all the physical activity he’s about to force Yunho to go through.

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says once they’ve regrouped in their team outfits.

“It’s fine, Changmin,” Yunho says, and smiles some more for their fans.

“It’s not fine,” Changmin mutters. “Do you want water--”

“Alright, we’re ready,” the PD announces into the megaphone, and the staff head to the edge of the bleachers to try to signal and direct the crowd.

Filming starts. The UV-hyungs are understanding, the MCs carry the weight of the conversation, and while Yunho would wager their fans know he’s under the weather, they still cheer and disproportionately sit on the TVXQ side of the venue.

Yunho feels bad during basketball, redeems himself for the crying bit, and then feels embarrassed for the leg wrestling, although that, at least, is partially Changmin’s fault.

By the time the staff are saying their goodbyes and the PD’s are pleased with the footage they’ve recovered, Yunho is well and truly ready for his own bed far away from everyone in the world.

So naturally when they get home, the first thing Changmin does is mention that Yunho’s got his shoes on.

“Hyung,” he says, before their front door has even finished shutting. He’s already got his shoes off, because of course he does. “Shoes.”

Yunho had been planning on removing them. He’d been about two seconds from bending to unlace them, only his head was throbbing, and he was worried bending over would end with him throwing up. The headache only gets worse as Changmin speaks, and so instead of acquiescing as he normally would, Yunho closes his eyes, counts to ten, and then makes a noise that even he has to admit sounds _remarkably_ like a nervous breakdown.

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho says. He toes his shoes off angrily and, with pointed eye contact, kicks them off in the general direction of their living room. They thud to the floor in the center of the room, loud, startling, and very much not supposed to be there. Shoes go in the foyer. Shoes have been getting Yunho sarcastic texts and pointed glares for the past ten years.

Yunho gives absolutely zero fucks anymore.

Changmin’s mouth has fallen open. “Yunho-hyung,” he says.

Yunho turns to meet his eyes giving _negative_ fucks. “Yes?”

“Are you in heat?” Changmin says, stupidly, and Yunho wants to punch him right in his stupid teeth.

“Fuck. You,” he says, and goes and locks himself in his room.

He doesn’t come out for dinner, he doesn’t come out to take a shower, and he certainly doesn’t come out when Changmin sounds like he’s set up camp outside the door with a full platter of Yunho’s favorite dishes and also more medicine than Yunho thought possible for them to have lying around.

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says a few times, and then wanders off to probably take a few frantic calls from their managers, but Yunho rolls over and sleeps through the whole thing. He’s exhausted, his head hurts, his other half is an insensitive idiot, and lying in bed for the next five hours is the greatest medicine Yunho can manage.

He wakes up in a haze to Changmin picking the lock to his door, and the sound of it--and Changmin’s swearing--is finally what brings him back to the land of the waking.

His back hurts. He’s gone to sleep still in his sweatpants and dog sweatshirt with his name on it. When he stretches, his bones creak.

“Changdol-ah,” Yunho manages. “Please tell me you’re not picking my lock.”

“We have practice,” Changmin say immediately. “Tomorrow.” The lock-picking noises don’t stop, but Yunho can tell he’s mostly just fiddling with the knob helplessly because he’s not a completely disrespectful idiot. “Yunho-hyung.”

“Changdol-ah,” Yunho manages. “If I let you in, will you promise to wipe my sweat and change my sheets _and not_ make terribly offensive statements--”

“I’m just worried about you,” Changmin says quickly. He’s let go of the knob but is clearly no less worked up about it, given the tone of his voice. “I’m worried and I’m angry because I should have noticed _sooner_ \--”

“To be fair,” Yunho tries to say. “I wasn’t exactly forthcoming--”

“--and I need you to take medicine and get better immediately,” Changmin says. “I need you to let me coddle you.”

He goes silent.

Yunho cracks open an eye. “Changdol-ah?”

Changmin sounds like he’s swearing. “Fuck,” he says loudly, audibly now. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck--_ I _called_ my _father_ \--Fine! Yunho-hyung!” He raises his voice at the end. “I promise I’m never going to do this again, but I. I’d really like to fucking _mate_ with you someday, so could you please open the door?”

Yunho almost gets to his feet and does just that. He doesn’t, because he’s exhausted, but his heart feels lighter than air. “Changdol-ah,” he says. He feels like he’s going to split his cheeks open smiling.

“You aren’t right,” Changmin continues, voice shaking only a little. “And I still won’t believe it till I see it--on either of us, I should clarify, so don’t you go thinking this is some sort of ‘I’m not as in love with you’ bullshit, okay?” He doesn’t continue. Clearly, he wants Yunho to respond.

“Okay,” Yunho says.

“But I. I love you,” Changmin says. He’s said it before. He says it a lot when they’re kissing. He says it in passing when Yunho brings him water during practice, or at night when he thinks Yunho’s already sleeping, but this time he’s saying it alongside ‘please be mine _forever_ ’ and Yunho wants to capture this moment so that he can frame and keep it forever as well.

He sits up, stands up, and makes his way over to his front door. “Changdol-ah,” he says, clicking the lock open. His door swings open to Changmin’s exhausted, blushing face. He’s standing awkwardly--clearly he really has just been sitting outside of Yunho’s door making sure he’s not stopped breathing or something--and his hair is sticking this way and that in a way that truly highlights how very much he looks like an acorn, but his cheeks are pinking and his mouth is smiling and Yunho gets to have him until they’re old and gray.

“I mean of course I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Changmin finishes his early train of thought, helplessly. “Now can you stop being mad at me and let me take care of you?”

“Changdollie-yah,” Yunho says, and reaches out to grab the man by both cheeks. “All you had to do is ask.”

“Yah--Never mind--fuck you--I take it back,” says Changmin, twisting around in Yunho’s grip even as he starts smiling like he can’t help himself. “Let’s just go back to being coworkers--clearly I’ve caught whatever you’ve caught because I’m out of my _mind_ \--”

“What you’ve caught is _love_ , Changdol-ah,” Yunho croons. “You’re in love.”

“And you have a fever,” says Changmin, slapping a hand to Yunho’s forehead but not disputing what Yunho’s said. “Yunho-hyung.” He frowns. “We have comeback in a week.”

“Have you been here all night?” Yunho says.

“Did you take _anything_?” Changmin says. “Have you eaten at _all_ today?”

Yunho leans into him, glances down at the truly astounding number of plates of food sitting outside his door, and smiles. His stomach growls.

Changmin’s hand lifts away from his forehead, skirts down his right cheek, and settles on the swell of Yunho’ neck.

“No,” Changmin says. “We have comeback in a week.”

Yunho pouts at him.

Changmin glares at him.

Yunho kisses him.

Changmin--kisses back.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Comments** and **retweets** and **kudos** really do make my day and make me want to keep writing and updating faster!!! (And uh....we're at the point where certain... rating earning _things_ shall... be occurring. :)
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/172995816855/my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you-author) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/985487444165451777)


	14. steam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Hexmen and Kinah as always. They did the most. Kinah's gifs this time around were inspiring tbh. Much pain went into finding a suitable raw video XD. All other mistakes are my own
> 
>  **Note:** Hovering over vocabulary (on a browser) will bring up a box with definitions. This information can also be found in the [Primer](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/aboau).

**14\. Steam**

\--

“Should I buy candles?” Yunho says.

Hojoon-hyung blinks back at him. “Should you… buy candles?” he repeats.

Yunho debates smacking him. “For when I let Changminnie fuck me,” he says, because true friendship is watching Son Hojoon cough and sputter around the mouthful of cola he just tried to inhale.

“Yunho.” Hojoon-hyung finally gets his breath back. “How well did candles go for you the first time around?”

Yunho continues to watch his friend cough, almost concerned. “Well, that first time I wasn’t looking to let anyone fuck me,” he says, right as Hojoon-hyung takes another sip to try to clear his airways.

This time Yunho does pound him on the back a few times. Then he takes the cola and moves it to his side of the table.

Hojoon-hyung shoots him a dirty look.

“What?” Yunho puts up both hands. “It’s the truth.”

“I forgot all your past dalliances were from before you got your dad’s shitty programing out of your head,” says Hojoon-hyung. He breathes easily a few times, and then reaches for his drink. “You fucker.”

Yunho pauses. “You say that like you knew.”

Hojoon-hyung takes a sip of his drink, sloshes it around his mouth a bit, then swallows. “Well, for one, you used to make us follow you around Seoul crying.”

Yunho shifts his feet. “I was the one crying,” he says.

“You were the one crying,” Hojoon-hyung agrees. “And also. Heechul-hyung.”

Yunho mulls that over. “What about Heechul-hyung?”

“You and Donghae used to follow him around like lost ducklings.”

Yunho continues to stare at him.

“If Shim Changmin did not exist,” his best friend says. “Who would you be asking me about?”

Yunho’s lips part and his mouth rounds out in realization. “Oh,” he says. “Gross.”

Hojoon-hyung smirks but lifts his glass. “Beta,” he says.

“Heechulie-hyung is not my style,” says Yunho. “Also--”

“Shim Changmin exists, we know,” Hojoon-hyung says. He sets his empty glass down on the table with a pleasant thud.

“We?” Yunho says.

Hojoon-hyung flicks a hand at him. “Changing the subject.”

“I think I should get candles,” Yunho decides.

Hojoon-hyung lifts one brow. “Unless your other half has a wax fetish, he may call the fire department on you,” he says.

Yunho has to concede that point. “That is a good point,” he says outloud. “Maybe I could get roses? Or like a giant bear?”

“Or you could buy some alpha condoms and throw them at him,” says Hojoon-hyung.

Yunho stares at him.

Hojoon-hyung stares back at him.

“Genius,” Yunho says.

“Career suicide,” Hojoon-hyung says.

“I’ll get my coat,” Yunho says. He goes to stand.

Hojoon-hyung reaches across the table to gently shove him back down by the top of the head. “Yeah, no,” he says. “Career suicide.”

Yunho pouts. “But it’s so simple,” he says. He resettles cross legged across from Hojoon-hyung in his apartment, and frowns. “Also, it’s good for me to get caught buying alpha condoms--they’re _alpha_ condoms.”

“You buying condoms period is a terrible idea,” Hojoon-hyung says. Before Yunho can pout anymore, he sighs. “We’ll buy them online,” he decides, and picks up a phone.

Yunho grins. “I knew there was a reason we were friends.”

“Uh-huh.” Hojoon-hyung keeps fiddling around with the phone. “Do you talk in jondaemal with Changmin?”

“No?” Yunho says. “We’re… dating? Also we’ve known each other since 2002--why--”

Hojoon-hyung puts the phone down at the same time Yunho realizes _it’s his phone_. “No reason,” Hojoon-hyung says.

Yunho picks up his phone, heart racing. It’s unlocked and still open to his and Changmin’s most recent group chat. “Hyung,” Yunho says. Hojoon-hyung’s gone and asked Changmin (and three of their managers, Yunho notes with growing panic) if he’d classify his knot as ‘extra-large’, ‘large’, or ‘medium?’.

“I got rid of the middle man,” Hojoon-hyung says. “Thank me later.”

“Kyungjae-hyung is in that group chat!” Yunho wails, and frantically starts clicking about the screen to see if he can delete the message before anyone sees.

The number next to it reduces to zero.

Yunho’s life is over.

“Your dildo?” says Hojoon-hyung.

“My _manager_!” says Yunho, and throws the phone at him.

Hojoon-hyung catches it one-handed, grinning. “Oops,” he says. “But weren’t you saying the man wanted to be present anyway--”

“Only during heat,” Yunho says through gritted teeth. “Because that’s the only time I can get pregnant--”

Changmin’s texted him back. _Hyung_ , he’s started with. _Are you… drunk?_

 _Yes_ , Yunho replies immediately. _So fucking drunk please remind me to kill Son Hojoon in the morning_.

 _There is not enough bleach for me to un-see this,_ replies Hosik-hyung.

 _Why am I in this chat again?_ says Myunghwan-hyung.

 _Because if we have to suffer so do you_ , says Jooyoung-hyung.

 _Seems counterintuitive_ , says Myunghwan-hyung. _I’m more inclined to want to let the fans murder them after seeing that_.

Yunho’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire. _I’ll have you know that birth control is a very serious issue and you all_ wish _you had the kind of relationship like mine and Changmin’s where we can ask the hard questions about dick size_ , he types and sends immediately, and then regrets it equally instantly. “Oh fuck,” he says. He thrusts his phone at Hojoon-hyung. “Fix this.”

Hojoon-hyung takes the phone with both hands, tilting his head to try to read it upside down. “Wow,” he says once he parses what Yunho’s sent.

 _Hard questions_ , Changmin replies.

 _Dick size_ , Kyungjae-hyung adds.

 _Please delete my number_ , Jooyoung-hyung says.

 _You’re all dead to me_ , writes Yunho, and pockets his phone.

Hojoon-hyung is staring back at him with an even expression when Yunho finishes glaring down at his jeans.

“What?”

Hojoon-hyung lifts both hands. “Nothing… just… when do you think Changmin will catch on?”

Yunho’s phone buzzes.

Yunho pulls it back out of his pocket frantically, and clicks it unlocked so both he and Hojoon-hyung can see.

It’s Changmin _not_ in their group chat. _Yunho-hyung_ , the message reads. _Why do you need to know my condom size?_

 _I don’t know, Changdol_ , says Yunho. _You tell me_.

Hojoon-hyung whistles. “Damn, Yunho-yah.”

Yunho slides his phone back away and grins.

“Congrats on your album,” Hojoon-hyung says, picking up his glass of cola to clank with Yunho’s. “And on getting Changminnie to fuck you.”

This time Yunho is the one sputtering, but he recovers quickly enough. “Shut up,” he says. “You’re just jealous.”

“Beta,” Hojoon-hyung says again.

Yunho rolls his eyes.

\--

They have a photoshoot the next day with Juhyun. It’s the first of two, _CeCi Magazine_ with Juhyun and then _In Style Magazine_ immediately following, and by the time Yunho’s through hair and makeup, he’s already inhaled more hairspray than needed.

He got home late last night to a find a rather shell-shocked looking Changmin seated on their couch clutching his phone with a string of unopened alpha condoms strewn across their coffee table.

Yunho had taken one look at him, laughed, and gone to bed, which was half an act, and half because clearly their managers had done the math as well, and delivered. The majority of the condoms were extra small.

Changmin was probably going to kill someone.

Changmin, at present, is staring Juhyun down like it’s a contest.

Maybe he’s going to kill Juhyun? That makes no sense. Juhyun is an omega.

“Wow,” Juhyun says finally. They haven’t forced her hair into unnatural volume, so she just looks natural and pretty. That said, when Yunho inhales, he gets just a whiff of her nervous energy combined with her natural, unappealing scent. It’s how he feels around most omega women, disinterested until the moment their eyes are on Changmin, at which point all Yunho wants to do is sit on the man.

He smirks.

Not all of the condoms on their coffee table were extra small. Clearly, Changmin had taken matters into his own hands.

Yunho gives himself a shake. He’s getting distracted. Pretty soon, he’ll be more than just distracted, and Changmin, by unfortunate, when-you-smell-like-that-I-get-almost-laid proxy, will also become distracted.

And their staff might murder _them_.

They don’t have time to spare for a cooldown separation.

“Alright, we’re ready,” the director calls.

The camera men scurry into position, and the stylists fly into a last minute frenzy.            

“Oppa,” Juhyun says to Yunho as they’re herded towards the center of the room. “Is it true that you and Changmin-oppa--” She breaks off, seemingly uncertain.

“He’s mine,” Changmin says, not at all quietly, and takes clear, unrepentant joy in how quickly Juhyun flushes.

“Oh,” she says. Then she rolls her eyes and settles in for teasing.

Yunho can’t really feel jealous of her after that.

 _CeCi_ is editorial.

 _In Style_  puts them in cardigans.

Yunho looks at Changmin’s soft, fluffy fringe and wants nothing more than to steal away into a closet with him. They’ve put Changmin in bright red pants. Changmin’s legs go on for miles.

Yunho’s mouth waters.

“Down boy,” Kyungjae-hyung says, voice stretched thin.

“Go out with your family tonight,” Yunho says.

“Not a chance,” Kyungjae-hyung says.

“Please,” Yunho tries.

Changmin’s bent down to listen to notes from the photographer while a stylists fusses with his hair. It shows of the graceful line of the back of his neck, hair cropped short and bright copper brown.

Yunho swallows.

“Later,” Kyungaje-hyung concedes.

“You’re going to get an eyeful,” Yunho warns.

“Later,” Kyungjae-hyung repeats.

\--

Later is four days, and they barely make it through the door. Yunho had to take two laps around the auditorium doubling as the jail for the final stage in _Running Man_ , which, luckily, he’d been informed would be edited out. Nobody interesting had been captured yet, Sukjin-hyung very kindly explained, so they wouldn’t be using much footage of the two of them. Yunho had smiled, nodded, and done two loops around the room with his heart racing and every nerve ending on fire.

By contrast Changmin had to go back out and play the game alongside Donghoon-hyung for however long it took for him to get out. Also luckily, it wasn’t that long; Kwangsoo-hyung found a running ball with Changmin’s name on it and the younger man showed up fake laughing hysterically about it only to be told they’d gotten the footage already and that he was scaring the staff.

Yunho had high fived him in what he hoped was a friendly, bandmate-y sort of way, and didn’t at all give away how very much he wanted to jump Changmin’s bones.

By the time they were piled back into the van to go home, Yunho was already palming the back of Changmin’s head for kisses. Two months before, in prep for _Catch Me_ , SM put them through a physical. Yunho’d nicked the results from Kyungjae-hyung and left them lying around Changmin’s room pointedly beside the no so extra small condoms. They were for show, anyway. Yunho’s not in heat.

Clearly, Changmin understood.

So they barely make it in the door.

In fact, at present, the door isn’t even closed.

“ _Inkigayo_ is tomorrow!” shouts Kyungjae-hyung. He sounds aghast, and after a few seconds, seems to pull the door shut with a gentle, locking click.

Yunho doesn’t know for sure. Yunho doesn’t care. Yunho is too busy with Changmin’s mouth.

“At six a.m.!” Kyungjae-hyung is still shouting, which Yunho thinks is good, because it’s hard to hear much of anything over the rush of blood in his ears.

One of Changmin’s legs is in between his thighs, and one of Changmin’s hands is down the back of Yunho’s shiny, silver pants.

They both still have their shoes on.

They’re not going to make it to the bedroom.

“I will be here at five a.m. to take you to the salon!” Kyungjae-hyung is still shouting, and Yunho finally releases his hold on Changmin’s mouth to pant for air somewhere near his left cheekbone.

“Make him go away,” Yunho says.

Changmin shudders. “K-kay. Hyung!” he shouts. His voice breaks. “Go away!”

Yunho lets his hips grind against Changmin’s thigh.

The younger man stumbles. “Shoes,” he mutters.

“If you get on your knees you’re going to learn to give a blowjob,” Yunho says, unable to help himself.

The room goes awkwardly silent.

“I’m out,” Kyungjae-hyung says, at normal volume now. “See you at five a.m., nobody get pregnant--”

“I’m not in heat!” Yunho lifts his voice to say. “What--”

Changmin’s sunk to his knees. “What makes you think you need to teach me?” His voice sounds funny. He loops a hand around Yunho’s ankle like some sort of expensive tracking bracelet, and then unlaces the tie of Yunho’s left shoe.

Yunho swallows. “Um,” he says.

Changmin’s hands shake.

“That?”

Changmin finishes undoing Yunho’s shoes, but doesn’t stand, so Yunho steps free of them himself. “Yunho-hyung.”

“Changminnie-yah,” Yunho says, and pulls Changmin up.  

The younger man kicks off his shoes.

“Kiss me again,” Yunho says.

Changmin shudders once more, but does, slow, even, and with one hand pressed up against the side of Yunho’s neck. He pulls back after a moment, laves kisses along the line of Yunho’s jaw down to join his fingertips before pulling them away so that it’s just his mouth and his tongue and Yunho’s pulse, going rapid-fire quick under all the attention.

“Can’t bite me there,” Yunho says, skin feeling too tight and already starting to go wet and leaking. “Everyone will see.” He can tell when Changmin smells him, feels his body go taut then loose then taut all over again, and watches with baited breath as Changmin pulls back with his eyes blown brown and his mouth wide open.

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin groans.

“Changdol-ah,” Yunho agrees.

Changmin slings a hand around the small of Yunho’s back, and lifts.

Yunho lets him because it’s easier, mostly, and because Changmin immediately seems to regret the decision.

They get all of two steps past the foyer before his bandmate is frowning and lowering Yunho back down.

Yunho keeps his legs tight around him.

“Yah.” Changmin slaps at his ass, probably because it’s there, and then sort of just. Leaves his hand there.

“I did squats holding you,” Yunho says. “You baby.”

Changmin rubs a thumb along the seam of Yunho’s pants before he can help himself. “You failed to do squats holding me,” he says sort of aimlessly. “I mean--fuck.” He goes to pulls his hand back.

Yunho lets his legs down and reaches for Changmin’s wrist at the same time, heart pounding. “Changdol-ah,” he says. “Take me to bed.”

Changmin swallows, but nods.

“Your bed,” Yunho clarifies.

When Changmin quirks his head at him, Yunho isn’t embarrassed. “It smells like you,” he says. “Only you.”

Changmin’s nostrils are flaring.

“It should smell like us.”

“Your bed smells like you,” Changmin says.

Yunho releases his hold on Changmin’s wrist and starts down the hallway. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he says. “I’m sure you can last more than one round.”

He keeps going with his head held high, trying not to grin too hard at the sound of Changmin banging his knee on the wall in his haste to beat him to the room.

“Wait--Yunho-hyung!” shouts Changmin, but Yunho is already pulling open the door.

He steps into Changmin’s room with his mouth open, feeling wobbly and unsteady and somehow even more achingly empty, and listens to the sounds of Changmin banging into more walls and swearing.

“Can you stop _doing_ that?” the younger man mutters, finally into the room after Yunho, and closing the door.

“Doing what?” Yunho says. He glances down at Changmin’s bed, which seems littered in condoms. He glances over at Changmin’s trash can, is which seems unfortunately filled with used tissues. Yunho can’t even feel embarrassed on his behalf. He’d been using the shower, because the shower made for easier clean up afterwards, and singing in the shower was an easy justification for the truly astounding notes he’d managed with two fingers against his prostate. Clearly, Changmin had been using his right hand. And tissues. And… the condoms?

Yunho tilts his head.

“Fuck,” Changmin swears, when he sees Yunho looking. “Fuck. Hyung.”

Yunho feels himself leak.

“Shit,” swears Changmin. “I said stop that.”

“Stop what?” Yunho repeats. He has an idea. His mouth is going dry like the desert.

“Smelling like… that.” Changmin looks embarrassed. He rubs at the back of his neck.

“Like I want you?” Yunho says. He steps closer to Changmin to kiss him. “Why would I do that?”

“It makes me want to pin you to the nearest hard surface and _own_ you,” Changmin mumbles, but kisses him back anyway. “It’s distracting.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s _for_ ,” Yunho says, at the same time Changmin has enough of his teasing and trips them both down onto the bed. They land in a sprawl, Changmin on top, Yunho below, the condoms digging into his back. Yunho shifts, hips aching to press up and back into something--but he’d have to be on his belly for that, and Yunho’s not sure he’s ready for that level of non-intimacy. Or. That’s harsh. That’s not what Yunho meant. Yunho just wants to see Changmin’s eyes, is all, and his mouth, and his eyelashes, and kiss him on his perfect, beautiful cheekbones-- “Changdol-ah!” Yunho gasps out, heart going a mile a minute because Changmin’s worked a hand down underneath him to fish the condoms out.

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin sets the things to the side without even pausing, before worming his hand back in. “Didn’t we have to attend the same SM mandated sex-ed courses?”

Yunho’s mouth has fallen open, and he can’t seem to get it to close. He thinks that’s fair. Changmin’s got a hand down the back of his pants, and is working a finger in slow circles against Yunho’s waistband.

“Changdol-ah,” Yunho manages again.

“Slick isn’t for getting me to fuck you, Yunho-yah,” Changmin says, voice low and raspy. He slides his hand past Yunho’s boxers and presses a finger teasingly close to _in_. “Slick is for _fingering_ \--”

“What did you call me--Changmin--I can’t--” Yunho bumbles out, and he feels almost like he’s not able to breathe.

Changmin pulls back immediately, brow furrowed in concern and mouth pulling to one side. “Shit, sorry, Hyung, too soon? Too rude? I just--”

Yunho reaches back with one hand to take Changmin by the wrist and arches his back. “Changdol-ah,” he says again. His voice sounds a mess. “If you keep teasing, I’m going to kick you out of your bed and go and get _Kyungtae_ \--”

Changmin’s fingers, it turns out, are better than Yunho’s and Kyungtae combined. And Yunho should know. He’s tried them both at the same time.

“Oh my God,” Yunho says.

“Oh my God,” Changmin agrees, and tries to pull out.

Yunho clenches down on him reflexively, and then groans. His cock feels like it could cut ice. “Don’t you dare,” he says through gritted teeth.

Changmin looks like he doesn’t know where to look. “Hyung,” he says sort of helplessly. “Hyung, I-- We’re not even naked.”

“Fix that,” Yunho growls out. It’s taking all of his self control to just stay still under Changmin, to keep his hand circled around Changmin’s wrist and his hips from fucking up onto his fingers.

Changmin has to do an uncomfortable looking shimmy to get his pants off with one hand. “Fuck,” he says again. “Hyung.” And then he’s kissing him, and Yunho has to let go of Changmin’s wrist so that he can hold onto the back of Changmin’s shoulders and _sob_.

Changmin pulls his hand free.

Yunho wants to cry.

“No, Hyung,” says Changmin, still kissing Yunho even as he’s shucking out of his shirt and tugging on the hem of Yunho’s own--Yunho lets him divest him of it without pause; he had asked--and rubbing restless circles against the expanse of Yunho’s back. “I just.” His right hand is sticky, gets stuck on the slope of Yunho’s shoulder blades, and they both shudder like they can’t help it.

“Fucking _hell_ , Changminnie,” Yunho says. He feels like he’s run a marathon.

Changmin’s dick is hot and hard and pressed tight up against Yunho’s stomach. He wants to peel the man out of his boxers so that he can see the whole of him. Wants to get his hands on the base.

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin seems to agree, and brings his hand to his lips.

“Fuck, no, don’t--” Yunho says, heart racing, mouth parting. His thoughts have gone warm and hazy.

That’s him. That’s his slick. That’s him all over Changmin’s fingers and Changmin’s going to taste it--to taste him--

The air around Changmin goes thick and heavy and hot and Yunho finds himself rolling onto his stomach before he can help himself, head aching, cock throbbing. He shoves his head down into the pillow, rounds his shoulder into the mattress, and drops a hand down to palm at his dick. “Fuck,” Yunho says. “Fuck--what was that--”

“Lordosis behavior,” Changmin says, voice a rough wreck. “Didn’t they teach you that in class--”

“I know what fucking lordosis behavior is, Changdol,” Yunho grits out. He gives up on decorum, kicks out of the shiny, silver pants, and shoves a hand down his boxers, trying not to hiss too noticeably when it wraps around his dick. “Asshole--”

“Mean,” Changmin says. He folds over top Yunho’s back like an overheated blanket, and Yunho nearly comes on the spot when he realizes that he’s lost his own boxers.

“Unfair,” Yunho groans, and grips the base of his cock. He’d been trying to stave off early orgasm. He’d been trying not to ruin things before they even happened. Instead, now he’s thinking about anatomical differences, and wondering what it’d be like to touch the base of Changmin’s dick, to the feel the pulse of his knot as he swells firm and warm underneath Yunho’s hand.

Yunho’s mouth waters. He whines.

“I told you not to do that,” Changmin says, against the shell of his ear. He kisses the skin there.

Yunho lets go of his own dick and turns. “Why am I not naked?”

“Dunno.” Changmin leans in to start kissing him again, slow and deep and dizzying. “I thought we were both in charge of ourselves--”

“I hate you,” Yunho says, and rolls more fully so that he can start to kick his boxers off. It’s probably good that he’s done that. He feels like he’s probably more than ruined them.

Changmin’s breath hisses through his throat.

“Fuck,” he swears.

Yunho glances down. “What?”

Changmin’s eyes seem stuck on his dick.

“Haven’t you seen a dick before--I’m just like a beta--”

“I didn’t make a point to stare at our ex-bandmates’ junk, Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says distractedly, eyes still stuck on Yunho’s lower half. “But I’m starting to consider taking you up on the blowjob lessons.”

Yunho’s brain isn’t sure he’s ready for that.

Yunho’s dick is _definitely_ ready for that.

Yunho’s asshole, worryingly, is _equally_ into that.

Changmin’s pupils blow out a little. His mouth parts.

Yunho pulls himself up so that he’s sat mostly his knees with his toes into the mattress, then sort of regrets how that leaves his hole exposed. “It’s unfair that you don’t have--”

“Can I--” Changmin breaks off, blushing, and waggles a hand helplessly.

Yunho leans in so that he can find the other man’s embarrassed gaze, then gets distracted by the scent of him this up close. Changmin smells sweaty and aroused and enticing and Yunho’s knees are weak already at the thought of him.

“You better,” he mutters, and kisses Changmin.

“Awesome,” says Changmin, before wrapping a hand around Yunho’s dick.

Yunho doesn’t come. Yunho wasn’t expecting that. “Wait, you mean--”

“I just.” Changmin’s grip is too tight and not at all wet enough but Yunho already can’t get enough, rocks his hips into the heat of him regardless while his mind spins out of control. “I mean.” Changmin seems to settle himself, pulls his hand away like he wants to lick it or something--and Yunho is grabbing him before he can stop himself, pulling Changmin’s hand up over his hip and back down to where he really wants it, heart pounding.

“Slick,” he manages.

Changmin’s eyes are very round and very wide.

Yunho wants to hide his face.

“Slick,” Changmin agrees. He doesn’t gives Yunho any fingers, just settles for stroking over the moistness there with careful, perfect precision.

“I’ve never touched an omega cock before,” Changmin says, and this time when he wraps his hand around Yunho the slide is easy and the friction is dizzying.

“Oh, well,” Yunho says, draping an arm across Changmin’s shoulders in support and debating setting his teeth into Changmin’s neck in claim. “It’s not that different from yours--”

“I dunno.” Changmin loosens his grip and comes to flutter fingers along the base of Yunho’s dick. “For me--this--” The pads of his fingers press down, ever so slightly. “Necessary--”

“Changdollie, I’ve watched porn,” Yunho says, and puts his own hand on Changmin’s dick.

Changmin yelps but doesn’t let go of Yunho.

Yunho sighs, cracks an eye open, and looks down.

That’s. That’s a thing, alright.

Changmin is looking down between the two of them like he can’t believe it either. “You’re giving me a handjob,” he gasps out.

Yunho blinks at him. “No, I’m holding your dick--” he starts to say, and Changmin’s lips twist viciously before his hand follows suit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh, please,” Yunho says, and bends forward helplessly again so that all he can see is the back of Changmin’s neck and the slope of Changmin’s shoulders. He wants to bite down on something. The roof of his mouth aches. Yunho blinks open bleary eyes, and somehow manages to get his hips to stop fucking. “Changminnie,” he says.

Changmin doesn’t let up on strokes. “Yeah?”

“I’m ready for you to bite me, now,” Yunho says. He keeps his face pressed into the seam of Changmin’s shoulder. “I’m okay with doing it now.”

Changmin’s hand stills on Yunho’s dick.

Yunho whines, and fucks forward a few times.

Changmin lets him go.

“Changdol--” Yunho lifts his head finally, eyes bleary and stops with his heart in his throat. “Changdol--”

Changmin is looking at Yunho like he’s something precious. “I’ve changed my mind,” Changmin says. He sets both hands on Yunho’s hips like he can’t help himself.

“About?” Yunho’s first thought was self-deprecating and terrible.

Changmin taps an angry beat against Yunho’s hip bones. “Yah,” he says. “Not that.” Yunho’s neck throbs, even though that’s not where Changmin will mark him. That’s too obvious. Idols never claim on the neck.

“Then?”

“Let’s wait till your heat,” Changmin says, and drags both hands down to the seam of Yunho’s knees and tugs.

Yunho lets Changmin unfold him until he’s lying on his back across the bed with the younger man caged over him, dick hard and hanging between them. The skin at the base is starting to look flushed.

Yunho’s feels himself leak. He swallows. “But that’s in six months,” Yunho says.

Changmin drops down onto his elbows so that their dicks touch, runs his hips in tiny, unfulfilling circles so that Yunho goes slightly cross eyed. “We can still fuck,” he says.

“I guess,” Yunho says, still a little miffed, but not quite ready to focus yet. “But you said you were ready--”

“You were right.” Changmin puts a hand on Yunho’s thigh and hitches one of his legs up.

Yunho hisses, muscles pulling and hole fluttering in anticipation. “Fuck,” he says. He’s getting the bed all messy.

Changmin’s eyes have gone perpetually glassy.

“It’s romantic,” Changmin says. “I. I want that, for you. With you.” He looks shy.

Yunho takes his hitched leg and sets his heel against Changmin’s ass. “We can still fuck,” he parrots back.

For a second he think Changmin’s just going to give it to him then and there, but then his lips are curving wickedly and his eyes are twinkling mischievously.

“Just because you’re self-lubing doesn’t mean you don’t need prep, Yunho-hyung,” he says.

“Wha--” Yunho tries to say, and doesn’t finish, because Changmin is sinking a finger into him nice and slow before he can even try.

“Oh,” Yunho says again, and comes.

To his credit, Changmin just keeps his finger barely curled inside of Yunho, and blinks.

Yunho feels heat spread in the center of his already cooling chest, and can’t meet his eyes. “Sorry--” he starts to say.

“I wish you were in heat,” Changmin groans, and cages him in even more so that he can kiss him, deep, probing kisses that leave Yunho’s chest heaving and his mind struggling to remember how to breathe, let alone keep track of where they were in the conversation. “If you were in heat--I could give you another one--”

“Why don’t you try anyway,” Yunho mumbles helplessly, and works a hand between them to press at the swell of Changmin’s knot.

And then Changmin is the one whining through an orgasm, eyes pressed shut and mouth gaping somewhere near Yunho’s cheek.

He comes and comes and comes and Yunho doesn’t know what to do with himself but hold onto him with one hand and press soothing kisses to the skin near his mouth through the lot of it. He’s covered, warm, wet, and part of him _aching_ , because what was the point of all that if he can’t have it and keep it and make it into _babies_ \--but Changmin is making almost pained whimpers into Yunho’s cheekbone, so Yunho drags a hand up to smooth through his hair.

When it’s over, Changmin’s near gasping. He collapses down onto Yunho in a boneless heap. “Fuck,” he says.

Yunho drops his leg down off of him with a minor twinge and agrees. “We didn’t get to use the condoms.”

Changmin’s chest rises and falls a few times.

“Yah.” Yunho thumps him helpfully in the center of his shoulder blades.

“Ow,” Changmin says automatically. “Later.”

Yunho considers that and agrees. He’s already feeling sleepy. “We have to be up at five a.m., though,” he says.

“Four a.m.,” Changmin decides. “Hyung’s a liar.”

“Whatever.” Yunho masks a yawn. “We’re going to get stuck together.”

“Don’t care,” Changmin says. “Love you.”

There’s a beat.

Yunho tries not to smile so hard his face splits open.

One of Changmin’s hands disengages from their pile to shove at the top of Yunho’s head. “Say it back, you idiot,” he says.

“Pabo-yah,” Yunho says, in parody of Changmin’s shouting on _God of Victory_.

Changmin snorts somewhere near Yunho’s neck. “Say it back,” he says again.

“I love you,” Yunho says. “But we’re going to stick together.”

“Alright, already,” says Changmin, and he actually gets up with the both of them--this time, Yunho notes, Changmin appears to have absolutely zero trouble lifting and carrying Yunho--to wander off to their bathroom to bastardize a hand towel.

They end up in Yunho’s bed immediately following, but Yunho has the foresight to make Changmin go back for a condom.

“For later,” Yunho tells him, and then curls up on his chest to sleep.

Later turns out to be far too close to three a.m., when Yunho wakes already hard and thinks: why should I have a sad wank when Changmin is here and available?

Changmin gets with the program easy enough--Yunho only has to blow in his ear a few times before the younger man is waking with murderous eyes, before going vaguely cross eyed when Yunho drags his hand down to palm his ass.

“Are you sure?” Changmin says.

“It’s later,” Yunho says.

“Don’t come,” Changmin warns.

“Be better at fingering,” Yunho says, and regrets it, because Changmin is fabulous at fingering, and then at fucking, and Yunho’s had a knot before because Yunho owns a goddamned knotted dildo, but everyone in his life was fucking right--it compares not _at all_ to the real thing.

“Yunho- _hyung_ ,” Changmin gasps out, eyes blown wide, mouth open wide, and heart going so fast that Yunho’s almost worried.

He’s got his hand pressed over the top of it to keep steady. His thighs ache, his shins feel wobbly and Changmin is fucking _knotting_ him, cock swollen and pulsing and locking them together so tightly that Yunho worries they’ll never be two again. Which wouldn’t be a problem, honestly, Yunho thinks he could learn to love a world where that was true, especially if it was anything as heavenly as Changmin’s dick in him.

Some part of Yunho is almost mad at the condom.

“Yunho- _hyung_ ,” Changmin says again, and reaches a hand up for Yunho’s cheek.

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho agrees, and rocks down to kiss him.

“I love you,” Changmin says, like he can’t believe it.

“Me too,” Yunho agrees, and kisses him more. He thinks his phone buzzes. He ignores it.

\--

“So… how long do your knots usually last, do you think?” Yunho says after what feels like a while.

Changmin groans. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Can’t,” Yunho says. “Too excited.”

“I’m wearing a condom,” Changmin says.

Yunho shifts his hips. “Yeah.” He’s aware he sounds sad about it.

“It’s October,” Changmin continues.

“Yeah,” Yunho repeats.

“I regret my life choices,” Changmin says.

“Kyungjae-hyung is going to be here soon,” Yunho says.

Changmin pauses, and then yawns.

Yunho yawns as well before he can help himself. He nuzzles his face more firmly into Changmin’s neck. The cover sheet doesn’t want to stay over top his shoulders, and he’s almost cold.

Like a mind reader, Changmin settles a hand onto the small of Yunho’s back, and rubs.

Yunho hums. He feels like he’s as good as purring.

“’M very full,” he says.

Changmin makes a punched out noise.

“Love you,” Yunho continues.

Changmin’s hand digs into his back. “I’m not saying it back again,” he says. “We’re tied together. This is unfair.”

A spark lights up in Yunho’s brain.

Changmin swears. “Don’t remember that,” he groans.

Yunho wants to sit up. Yunho can’t sit up, cause then he’ll be hard and aching and have nowhere to go. It feels like it’s been nearly twenty minutes, which had seemed long, but according to Naver, it was pretty standard, if not short.

The more worrying thing is Yunho has a very horrible feeling that he’s forgetting something…

“I swear to fucking God,” says Kyungjae-hyung, letting himself into the apartment and probably smelling them from the doorway. “I take it this is why you didn’t answer your cell phone.”

Yunho thinks this is unfair. Neither he nor Changmin can move.

His manager is continuing into the apartment. The sounds of him disposing of his shoes so that he can come and yell at them are very, very clear. “You’re lucky I didn’t move the salon appointment up an hour--and am only here to make sure you’re awake and ready to move so that we don’t miss our filming time and make the fans wait.”

“Hyung,” Yunho says. The only thing covering his ass at the moment is Changmin’s hand.

“Why the heck are the blankets out here?” Kyungjae-hyung continues, then stops.

Clearly, he’s found them.

Yunho has never been gladder that he can’t turn to look at him.

The blanket hits Yunho in the center of his back after a moment.

Changmin grabs onto it and pulls it up over to cover them both. Then he heaves them upright, groaning a little when the move shifts him inside of Yunho and makes him release even more.

Yunho’s eyes might roll back in his head. He might swear in dialect.

Changmin just gives Kyungjae-hyung a thumbs up. “Thanks, Hyung.”

“Don’t you dare,” Kyungjae-hyung says. “How long has it been?”

“A half hour,” Yunho says miserably, face still tucked into Changmin’s shoulder. He worries his face is going to fall off for how red he is, but also, that he’s not embarrassed enough. Some part of him is proud, unbearably so, that Changmin is his.

He clenches down a little.

Changmin hisses.

“That seems long.” Yunho thinks Kyungjae-hyung has moved so that he’s no longer standing in their doorway.

“Well, it’s going down,” says Changmin.

“It’s our first time,” Yunho adds.

“Yes, thank you for that information,” Kyungjae-hyung says. “I’m not leaving.”

“Hyung.” Yunho can’t help but whine.

“I’m not leaving,” Kyungjae-hyung says again. “Will you go another round if I leave?”

Yunho has no comment.

He lifts his head to meet Changmin’s eyes and finds that Changmin has no comment either. The other man’s ears are blushing, and his cheeks are faintly pink as well, but he’s smiling like he can’t quite stop himself.

“Will you go another round if I leave?” Kyungjae-hyung repeats.

“Fine,” Yunho concedes.

“ _Inkigayo_ is important,” Changmin puts in.

“It’s only your comeback stage,” Kyungjae-hyung says.

“We’re pre-recording,” Yunho says.

Changmin snorts, but finally, unfortunately, starts to soften.

Yunho misses him with a sudden, terrible ache, and his eyes dart to the stretch of skin below Changmin’s ear anyway.

Reading his mind, Changmin touches a finger to Yunho’s chin. “Six months,” he says.

“Why is Changmin’s door closed?” Kyungjae-hyung is saying. “Where are your clothes--we need to go-- _fuck_.”

Yunho feels Changmin start to finally slide free, and sighs. He pulls off of Changmin’s dick with  ease, and tries not to grin too besottedly at the other man when Changmin comes in for one last kiss.

“Stop sucking face.” Kyungjae-hyung has reappeared in the doorway. He throws a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt at Changmin, and then starts shaking a can of scent-blockers. “We don’t have time for you to shower,” he explains.

Yunho slides to his feet on shaky, unsteady legs. “What about me?”

Kyungjae-hyung has a hand up over his eyes. “This is your room,” he says. “You’re a grown man.”

“I want these,” Changmin says, pulling at the pair of sweat pants Yunho has tucked over his desk chair. “You can have mine.”

He tosses the pair Kyungjae-hyung threw at him at Yunho.

“Put on goddamn boxers,” Yunho’s manager barks. “We are _going to the stylists_ \--”

“I really think we should shower,” Yunho interjects, holding the sweat pants in front of his dick, but rubbing at the skin of his chest anyway.

Kyungjae-hyung peeks an eye out, swears, and concedes. “Five minutes,” he says. “For you both. But you’re not sharing.”

Yunho exchanges a look with Changmin, and grins.

“I will get you _fired_ ,” Kyungjae says.

Amazingly, they aren’t late to _Inkigayo_. The filming is hell because of how many different stages they have planned, but mostly, Yunho is just waiting for them to be sent home. Changmin had wanted to try blowjobs, earlier. Yunho finds that he agrees.

\--

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Comments** , **Kudos** , **Retweets/Reblogs**? Loveeeeee. 
> 
> Also I really... really... really want to get to 600 kudos and that would totally motivate me to update faster actually maybe start writing the sequel which I have for terrible reasons mostly just been plotting and receiving screeching messages about. 
> 
> Whoever leaves the best most detailed comment on this wins by the way. Like idek how you manage to be detailed when the majority of the fic is just. Smut.
> 
> ANYWAY.
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/173126157885/my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/987316475194167296)


	15. smolder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO I WAS KIDDING WHEN I SAID 600 KUDOS. THERE WERE 515 WHEN I POSTED CHAPTER 14 I DID NOT BELIEVE IT WAS GOING TO BE POSSIBLE. HOW THE HECK.
> 
> There is now a [primer](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/aboau) on tumblr! 
> 
> Betaed by Kinah and Hexmen, as always. All other mistakes are my own.

**15. Smolder**

\--

Yunho has Changmin again two days later, after they’ve wrapped _Music Bank_ and finished their signing at Evan Records. They’re already tied, Changmin underneath him because Yunho can’t get enough of it like this, even though his thighs are starting to cramp, and they’ll probably need to invest in more condoms--in their defense, they didn’t have to be seen all yesterday. Changmin is mid orgasm, hips pumping mindlessly and beautiful, aching whimpers squirming their way past his lips, but he’s also rambling on about something, so Yunho makes a point to stop shifting around on Changmin’s knot and instead to try to listen.

“--This is really unfair. You’ve ruined me for hand jobs--” Changmin breaks off with a strangled groan when Yunho clenches down in response. “Fuck,” he says after, brown eyes teary but still finding Yunho’s face. He drags fingertips along Yunho’s cheekbone, and then swoops around to press those same fingertips to Yunho’s rim.

“Shit.” Yunho’s the one swearing now, legs shaking and nearly giving out. His dick is starting to feel ready to join the party again.

“Huh.” Changmin is still playing around where they’re joined. “Dad was right.”

Yunho manages to get his mouth to close just enough to stop making embarrassing gasping noises. “Now, that’s absolutely not talk for the bedroom,” he says.

Changmin’s index fingers shifts almost like it wants to hook, and Yunho’s voice breaks. He supposes he’s lucky that’s impossible right now.

“Too bad,” Changmin says, clearly on the same page, and clearly directed towards his own knot. “You’re so sensitive there.” His voice sounds raw.

Yunho’s brain unhelpfully starts producing information lifted from anatomy textbooks and mandated sex-ed courses. “Wait,” he says, flexing his aching thighs one last time so that he can feel the glorious, stinging pull of Changmin’s dick. “Are you saying you talked to your dad about sex?”

Changmin stares up at him. “Yunho-hyung,” he says. “Did your parents… not?”

Yunho flushes despite himself. “Shut up.”

Changmin lets go of him and drops both hands onto his stomach, annoyingly close to Yunho’s definitely interested dick.

Yunho thinks it’s really unfair that he’s so close to ready to go again. Changmin’s still coming in him, a fact of which he’s inescapably aware every time he clenches down.

“But if you’re asking specifically if I spoke to my dad about you…” Changmin is an asshole with his oversized alpha dick shoved deep into Yunho’s asshole and Yunho wants to kill him. “Yes.” He’s smirking. “I just wanted to take care of you--”

“Fuck you,” Yunho groans out miserably. “That’s not bedroom appropriate _at all_.”

“What, that I wanted to make it good for you?” Changmin’s put one hand on Yunho’s cock and isn’t even stroking. “That I did research--”

“Changminnie, you do research on all the restaurants in every city we visit for the tour,” Yunho says. “Nobody would be surprised that you research--” He breaks off, uncertain.

Changmin’s fingers have formed a loose circle around Yunho’s dick, but his thumb almost seems to be mindlessly stroking over the base like he’s not even thinking about it.

 _Alphas_ , Yunho thinks.

Changmin’s knot, caught deliciously in Yunho’s ass, pulses almost mockingly.

Yunho regrets most of his life choices, but not really.

He has no idea what it was he had been saying.

“Nghh,” Yunho decides on eventually.

“Researched fucking you?” Changmin finishes for him helpfully. His breath sounds airy and he keeps darting glances down to where Yunho is unable to do more than shift on his dick like he can’t believe it.

“Yeah, that,” Yunho says. He’d be flattered, but he’d also mostly just like to come now. And he only has half an idea what they’re talking about, because Changmin has started jerking him off in earnest now. “Nobody’d be surprised to hear that you’re researching… eating,” Yunho produces finally.

Changmin’s hips stutter up and the air between them goes thick in that way that makes Yunho want to be belly down immediately.

“Changdollie-yah,” Yunho says, snappish because of how hard he is, and how _aching_ on the inside he is, despite the fact that he’s sitting on Changmin’s knot.

“Is this your way of asking me to eat you out, Yunho-hyung?” Changmin says.

Yunho comes near instantly. If asked, he had a knot and Changmin was totally jerking him off.

“Fuck,” Changmin says.

“Fuck,” Yunho agrees. He gives up on staying upright and goes faceplanting down onto Changmin’s chest listlessly.

Changmin’s knot pulls awkwardly at Yunho’s rim and Yunho would worry about how much fucking semen there is--and their poor, supposedly built for this alpha condoms--if he had the brain cells to do more than moan.

“That’s not supposed to be biologically possible,” Yunho says.

“Not biologically _likely_ ,” Changmin corrects. He sounds equally shell-shocked though, so Yunho forgives him. “But you can do it in heat…”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Yunho says. “And also, I go dry after four anyway.”

There’s a beat.

Changmin’s dick, thankfully, doesn’t seem to be inclined to produce more sperm.

Changmin’s voice, tellingly, is very, very high. “Oh,” he says.

“Yeah,” Yunho says. He yawns. Their schedule has them up far too soon the next morning for _Music Core_. Then the day after that they’re performing in Gangnam and then in Busan the day after _that._ That’s two flights in one day and Yunho’s head hurts. “I hate promo season.”

“No you don’t.” Changmin presses a barely-there kiss to the top of Yunho’s head and finally starts to soften.

Yunho makes a noise that he wants to be relief but ends up sounding much more like disappointment. God. He just wants to be full and wet and _leaking_ , not from wanting and waiting and anticipation but from satisfaction and finishing and loving. “Can we go to the doctor tomorrow to make sure I’m definitely not ovulating or going to go into early heat?” Yunho mumbles into Changmin’s chest. His eyes are already falling shut.

Changmin’s grip on his shoulders tightens. “Hyung.”

“I just wanna feel you,” Yunho explains, and is all the way asleep before he hears Changmin’s response, and before Changmin is on the way to soft.

\--

“Mmm,” Yunho says the next morning around a yawn. “Are you still serious.” They’re barely awake. _Music Core_ pre-recording is in under two hours and they have to be dressed, styled, and warmed up before they even set foot into MBC.

Yunho feels refreshed and rejuvenated and a little bit pleasantly sore.

Changmin stares down at him and squints. “About what?”

Yunho yawns again. “About mating. Biting. Claiming.” His teeth twinge almost on command. “Do you still want to wait?”

Changmin is looking at him like they’re not going to make it to MBC on time for their comeback stage. “Are you trying to pressure me?”

“No.” Yunho keeps his tone mild, and isn’t bothered. Changmin doesn’t sound serious, just sounds bemused. “I’m just checking, cause you know.” Yunho finishes out his yawns and opens his eyes fully. He waggles his brows. “I’m ready.”

Changmin shoves Yunho’s entire face away from him. “Never make that face again,” he says.

Yunho keeps waggling his eyebrows behind Changmin’s palm. “No? Not yet? April?”

“Yunho-hyung.”

“Kay,” Yunho chirps, and reaches up to take Changmin by the wrist. He gently tugs his hand away from his face. “What about the other thing, then?”

Changmin lets Yunho hold him by the hand like they’re in a cheesy drama. “What other thing?”

“Do you still want to do it the other way around?” Yunho says.

Changmin’s eyes grow at least three sizes. “Yunho-hyung!”

“No?” Yunho isn’t afraid to let disappointment color his tone. “Kay.” He lets go of Changmin’s hand and smiles brightly. “Well, whenever you want, we can,” he says, and gets up to skip nakedly through their apartment into the bathroom. “I’m going to shower.”

“Don’t use all the hot water!” Changmin shouts after him, probably before he can help himself.

Yunho tugs the shower curtain closed and turns on the water.

“Actually--we don’t have time to take separate--”

Yunho pulls his hand out of the spray so that he can attempt to kick the bathroom door closed.

“Yah!” Changmin crows, and covers his nose and eyes and comes barging in anyway.

Yunho laughs, entirely amused, and lets Changmin crowd him and cuddle him and wrestle him under the steaming spray together.

“Holy fucking shit!” Changmin shrieks.

“I hadn’t turned on the cold yet,” Yunho admits.

One of Changmin’s hands comes out of the hold he has around Yunho’s waist to do so.

Yunho watches the amount of torque he applies sadly. “That’s too cold.”

“This is my shower now,” Changmin says. “Deal with it.”

Yunho keeps staring sadly at the faucet, and even though he can’t see Changmin’s expression (and therefore Changmin can’t see his depressing pout), he can tell the other man is twitching under one perfect eye.

“Yunho-yah,” his dongsaeng grumbles.

Yunho back his ass into Changmin’s knot. “I like it when you call me that,” he says. He remembers their first time, Changmin’s shy, almost worried expression, and then being too overcome and into what was to come--and _who_ was to come, honestly--to do anything to acknowledge it. “If you want.”

Changmin seems to be filing that away to use later. His grip on Yunho’s waist doesn’t loosen. “Stop hijacking my shower,” he says.

“This is entirely _my_ shower,” Yunho says. He finally manages to turn, perfectly content to let Changmin worry about if they’re both going to fall and brain themselves on the porcelain. “I was here first.”

Changmin pinches Yunho’s side. “Technically we both got into the shower first,” he says.

“Technically I turned on the water--”

“Technically I _finished_ turning on the water--”

“Technically--”

“ _Technically-_ -”

Their faces are very close together, and Yunho can’t help but dip his eyes to Changmin’s perfect mouth. He swallows. His throat bobs. Water sloshes down along his collar bones and into the divot of his chest.

Changmin’s nostrils flare. “Technically we don’t have enough time to knot,” he says.

Yunho isn’t sure speaking is a good idea, because speaking involves mouth breathing, and mouth breathing means breathing in the fact that he and Changmin are both ready and raring to go. “This is why I tried to close the door,” he says. His voice is breathy.

“Hand jobs,” Changmin decides, tone no-nonsense. He reaches for the body wash and slathers an ungodly amount onto his palm.

Yunho is unimpressed.

“What?” Changmin’s ears are pink, but he starts scrubbing at his skin anyway. “We need to get clean anyway, and my dick’s bigger--”

Yunho reaches for Changmin’s hand to steal the soap, and very kindly circles a hand around the two of them. “Your dick is _different_.”

“My dick is _in your hand_ \--”

“You said hand jobs--”

Changmin’s eyes are very wide and his voice is very high. “I also said we need to get clean anyway!”

“Don’t wanna be clean,” Yunho slurs. He hasn’t let go of either of their cocks. “Wanna be dirty--”

Changmin takes Yunho by the wrist and pulls his hand off the two of them and to rest sadly across Yunho’s own abdomen. “We do not have enough time to knot,” he says. His voice is so very rough.

“Fine,” Yunho says. “But hand jobs.”

“After we’re clean,” says Changmin, resuming his rinse. “And only if you condition--”

“Noona is going to yell at me for my hair anyway,” Yunho grumbles. “I’m bad at color.”

“Your hair is literally always colored.” Changmin has started in on his pectorals, and that’s somehow supposed to be fair.

Yunho wants to stick his entire face into them and lick, but that would be both counterproductive to the washing and terrible because of all the soap from the washing.

“You look like an acorn,” he says.

Changmin finishes with his upper body and lifts one eyebrow.

“You do,” Yunho protests, flushing, and turns around so that he can get more soap and the loofa and actually give himself a proper wash. He does a mildly decent job for a long while--washes under both arms, strokes along his hip bones, scrubs particularly hard at a rough patch of skin still dirty and sticky from the night before--and then nearly drops the loofa when an arm comes sneaking around his stomach to join him in combing through his pubic hair.

“That was playing dirty,” Changmin says up against the shell of Yunho’s ear. “You know how I feel about your back.”

Yunho lets his head sink back a little into the slope of Changmin’s shoulder. “I do,” he manages.

Changmin’s got his soapy hand wrapped around Yunho’s dick and the other resting against the swell of Yunho’s ass like he knows what Yunho really wants is to be jerked off until he’s whining and then teased over the edge with the hint of one finger.

“Kind of unfortunate given our upcoming comeback stylings,” Yunho continues to say, voice whole lot of air. “And the dance--”

“If I have to lie on the ground multiple times the least they can do is let me ogle you,” Changmin says. He’s started to move his hand, still annoyingly focused on the base of Yunho’s dick, though, and Yunho honestly thinks he doesn’t realize.

“Changdollie-yah,” he says. “I am not an alpha--”

Changmin’s grip slides all the way down to the tip of Yunho’s cock and just stays there, thumbing over the head a few times like an utter tool. “Oh, I know.”

“Asshole,” Yunho groans out.

“This soon?” Changmin’s enjoying this too much. “I didn’t know you were that close--”

“I take it back let’s not get married,” Yunho says, even as his hips stutter with how much he wants to come. He can feel his hole go wet and loose and messy. “Let’s just stay friends--”

“Friend’s don’t put fingers in each other’s assholes, Yunho-hyung,” says Changmin, but obliges the sudden grip Yunho gets on his left hand anyway. “For your information--”

“Fuck you,” Yunho’s eyes roll back when Changmin finally gives him a finger, not nearly deep enough because of the awkwardness of the angle. When Yunho groans from frustration, Changmin switches tactics and digits, hooking his middle finger in and just leaving it there because he’s a fucker with fucking amazing hands. “We can be friends with _benefits_ \--”

“What kind of benefits?”

“Oh, I _hate_ you--” Yunho can feel Changmin’s cock, hot and hard and the base practically throbbing where it’s getting caught on Yunho’s lower back and Changmin’s wrist.

“What kind of benefits, Yunho-hyung?” Changmin speeds his right hand up.

“The best--” Yunho’s voice breaks and his toes curl and he can feel an orgasm coming despite himself. “The best benefits--oh--Changdol-- _knot me_ \--”

“Can’t.” Changmin strokes Yunho through the orgasm anyway, tone disappointed but cock up and interested and making a mess of Yunho’s lower back. “Not enough time.”

“Fuck _Music Core_ ,” Yunho says, and goes utterly, utterly spent.

“Can’t do that either,” says Changmin. He sounds breathless.

Yunho cracks an eye--when had he closed them?-- and turns his head a little so that he can try to see what’s happening behind him.

Changmin has not let go of his dick, but he has pulled free of Yunho’s ass. When Yunho finally gets himself together enough to turn, hissing and whining through the slow drag of Changmin’s hand around his softening dick, he finds the younger man holding his own cock, which looks painful.

Yunho doesn’t really know where to look first.

Changmin meets his eyes, and pants through his open mouth. “I thought you told Heechul-hyung and Boa-noona you’d seen one before,” he says.

Yunho smacks him in the chest. “I have.”

“Then close your mouth.” Changmin smirks like he can’t help himself.

Yunho goes down on his knees. “My mouth’s not open because I’m surprised, Changdol-ah,” he whispers.

“Oh holy fuck,” Changmin swears, and starts to come.

Yunho thinks it’s too bad, really, that he can’t shove his entire face up into it and let Changmin cover him, because shower, and hair, and _Music Core_. He’s hesitant to get up off his knees, though, too busy watching the way Changmin holds himself through it all, eyes shut, hips rocking, and knot pulsing and pulsing and pulsing and making Yunho’s mouth _ache_.

It’s a sympathy ache. He’s not reached the point in his life where he’s anywhere ready to seek out that sort of porn. If he stood--he should stand--his ass would be the real thing wanting.

Yunho swallows despite himself.

Changmin's finally seemed to have stopped coming. “Fuck,” he says again. “Fuck--Yunho-hyung--”

Yunho pulls himself to his feet but comes in close anyway, careful not to get any water in his ears, but hands hovering down around Changmin’s dick anyway. “Why aren’t you going soft?”

“Well, one.” Changmin’s voice sounds thick with desire and satisfaction and misery all rolled into one. “I’m going to need like thirty minutes--”

“Fifteen,” Yunho says. “And that’s only if you actually knot something--I have read, Changdol--”

“And two,” Changmin interrupts, voice tight now. “I, uh.” He breaks off, seemingly embarrassed, and after what feels like ages, works his hand up his dick till it meets his knot, angles his thumb and fingers back, and _presses_.

Yunho’s mouth rounds out into an oh and his knees go a little weak and wobbly. “Oh,” he says.

“Yeah,” Changmin sighs out, cock coming even _more_ it seems, and finally starting to go tentatively less hard.

Yunho can’t seem to get himself to look away.

“I thought you’d said you watched porn--”

“Well not for research, God, Changminnie,” Yunho says, and bats Changmin’s hand away so that he can give it a try. “So is it the pressure--” He strokes his fingers over Changmin’s knot and starts to press--

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-- _yes_ \--” Changmin yelps out, eyes rolling back, and Yunho actually has to grab him by the hip to steady him.

“I see.” Yunho stares down and watches Changmin seem to come again, although this time it’s near dry. “What’s the point of the second one?”

“Is this really the time for an anatomy lesson, Yunho-yah?” Changmin snaps, but keeps his eyes closed and his head lolling towards Yunho’s shoulder anyway.

Yunho lets him drape an arm across him and use him as much needed lumbar support. “I’m just asking,” he mumbles. “What happens if you don’t have pressure--”

“We are not there yet in our relationship,” Changmin interjects, finally coming back into himself and standing. He pushes Yunho’s hand away from his cock, seems to give it a causal, can’t-help-himself once over, and turns away so that he can fuss with the faucet. Their shower’s gone a little bit cold, Yunho finally notices.

Changmin’s ears are very pink, Yunho notices.

“Ah,” Yunho says. “So if you don’t have pressure you don’t really come,” he determines.

Changmin doesn’t turn around and look at him, but his ears seem to flush even more.

“Well, add that to our to do list after me fucking you,” Yunho says pleasantly. He goes to step out of the shower.

A hand comes reaching around to grab him by the arm to stop him. “Yunho-hyung.” Changmin is over-enunciating. “I have no idea where you got the idea from.” Changmin lets go of Yunho and turns the water off with his other hand. “But I can assure you. I have am most definitely not an ass virgin.”

‘ _Ass virgin_ ,’ Yunho mouths back at him before he can stop himself. Now that the water is off, he’s cold.

“And also, if any of us are going to do edge play first it’s _clearly_ me--”

“Well, that would really be most effective when I’m in heat,” Yunho interrupts, shivering a little.

Changmin gets out of the tub, so Yunho follows, and then takes the towel Changmin hands him first and wraps up in it, eager to get warm.

“So…”

Changmin looking at him like he can’t decide if he wants to smack him or kiss him.

Yunho smiles. “I love you,” he says.

Changmin’s cheeks go pink. “I love you too,” he mumbles, pleased despite his tone and himself. “But you’re distracting me.”

“Look, it’s fine,” Yunho says. “I mean, I’m a little jealous to know someone else has put their dick in you--”

Changmin stumbles in a way that is totally not because of the towel he was in the middle of wrapping around his waist, but maintains enough dignity to start out of the bathroom. “You’re not the only person with sex toys,” he says with the same amount of dignity.

Yunho follows him after him mulling that over, content to just keep his own towel around his shoulders and trounce water all along the halls to Changmin’s clear displeasure. “We didn’t close the door, did we,” he says, noticing once they’re in the hallway. That’s the safer thing to focus on.

“No,” Jooyoung-hyung says, seated in their living room on their couch staring at the front door and not looking at them. “No, you did not.”

“Oh, Hyung.” Yunho finally tugs his towel down to cover himself, and shoots Changmin a bemused look as the younger man keeps glancing between his bedroom and the water Yunho’s sloshed all over their floor. “You’re here early.”

“No,” Jooyoung-hyung says. “I’m really not.”

“Told you we didn’t have enough time for a knot,” says Changmin, and then practically cackles his way into the bedroom to get dressed.

Jooyoung-hyung keeps staring straight ahead.

“I’ll get dressed now too, then,” Yunho says, and turns.

\--

Unfortunately, their schedule gets too hectic after that for more than cuddling, kissing, and a few, well planned out fucks across their various apartments, hotels, and on one noted occasion, a broom closet at SM. Yunho fucks Changmin on one post-show high, and Changmin arrives home for a pre-approved stopover in Seoul on their way to their next SM Town stage with his mouth a mess and a spring in his slightly bowed step.

 _Buy lube_ , Yunho texts Changmin, ears burning, because he should say that, and then wants to throw his phone in the trash when Changmin responds.

 _Ah, but we don’t need it, do we_?

 _Shut up I was indisposed at the time,_ Yunho replies, and then refuses to tell Boa why he’s blushing the entire flight. They hadn’t needed lube, was the thing. And it turned out Yunho was rather innovative and quick thinking when push came to shove, particularly if push was two of Changmin’s fingers and shove was just... _shove_. Those two fingers shoved deep inside Yunho, to be more exact, where it was wet, and warm, and frankly, self- _lubing_.

Also, if he really thought about it, Yunho figured it was more _Changmin’s_ idea than his, since Changmin was the one who’d put the thought in him initially that first time jerking Yunho off.

Regardless, he wasn’t about to tell Boa _any of that_.

For the rest of November the two of them get separated out into SM The Performance and SM The Ballad alongside their other company members for solo projects.

Hyukjae and Donghae and Minho get put in the group alongside Yunho, Taemin, Jongin, and Yixing--which puts their group very evenly as two alphas, three omegas, and two betas. They all have a huge laugh about it and perform to roaring applause at the end of year programs.

Yunho goes to a wedding with Kang Hodong and gets Changmin a variety show.

Yunho goes into an SM meeting and gets himself his own drama.

In between it all, Yunho doesn’t go into heat, Changmin doesn’t go into rut, and they remain pointedly unmated.

Which becomes something of a sticking point January 2013, in and out of contract meetings and year planning.

“You should probably move out,” one of SM’s higher ups says, sounding like they’d really like to be saying anything else.

Yunho’d been basically holding Changmin’s hand the entire meeting out of spite, because he’d already gotten his drama, and Changmin had gotten his variety program with Kang Hodong that was going to involve reading or something, and the two of them had already been committed and penciled in for Nissan Stadium in late August 2013. If Yunho wanted to hold Changmin’s hand, he was very well going to; moreover if Changmin was going to _let_ Yunho hold his hand--and he had been, though he was rolling his eyes a lot and smiling with mismatched eyes at the patterns Yunho was tracing along his veins--Yunho was damn well going to take advantage.

When their company higher up speaks, Yunho tightens his grip on Changmin’s fingers and frowns. “Why?”

“You’ll be enlisting soon,” the man says. He’s an alpha. Yunho glowers at him and wants to bare his teeth, even though the man’s been nothing but respectful their whole careers. “You’ll be thirty, soon.”

“Not until 2015,” Changmin says. He gives Yunho’s hand a squeeze, but he doesn’t look nearly as upset as Yunho feels.

“Regardless.” Another SM executive is speaking. “We think it’s time for you to move out.”

Yunho mulls that over. Probably, they’re right. They’re at the age where living together in a dorm is starting to be odd. He’d actually spent the other night being annoyed at the cramped style of living they were currently in--two rooms, several staff, one kitchen, one living room--not nearly enough _privacy_ \--but that had mostly been tempered by the fact that he’d been impaled on Changmin’s knot and his belly was silly with butterflies and nervous energy over the fact that they’d both been pronounced well and truly not fertile and there had been absolutely no condoms in sight.

Yunho had thought, _I want a_ home _with Changminnie, not a dorm_ , and promptly determined not to say anything.

Now, he frowns.

“It makes sense,” Changmin says.

Yunho hates him a little.

“But Hyung and I want to be able to be honest eventually,” Changmin adds.

Yunho looks up, head tilting to one side.

“We’re going to be thirty soon,” Changmin says. “We’re going to enlist soon.”

“Yunho-ssi is,” someone says.

Changmin stares at them without moving.           

“You’re not going at the same time,” another someone says.

“We’re going to mate this spring,” Changmin says, ignoring all that.

Yunho makes a mental note to put him on his back and wrestle the truth out of him the only way he knows how--by sealing them together and then getting him when his guard’s down because his dick’s too busy making itself at home deep up inside Yunho.

“So… eventually. I mean.” Changmin looks like he’s well and truly regretting deciding to have this conversation. “We all know Yunho-hyung wants kids,” Changmin finishes. He won’t meet anyone’s eyes. “So…”

“Twenty-five,” Yunho says, mostly to see if Changmin’s listening.

“We’re mating this spring,” Changmin agrees, looking back up, and then stops. “Wait. What--”

“So, we can totally move out, but the tour can’t start until we’re done with that,” Yunho says. “Schedule it for late April.”

“You’ve literally never had a regular heat before,” mutters Kyungjae-hyung helpfully from the side. He’s got both hands holding his temples and hasn’t moved since Yunho and Changmin started holding hands.

“Yes, well, I really want to mate with Changminnie,” Yunho says. “My body will understand.”

“Twenty… twenty-five?” Changminnie says. His voice goes up very high at the end.

Yunho kicks him under the table.

“Right…” The original SM executive looks dubious.

“Look.” Changmin seems to get himself together after Yunho kicks him two more times. “We’re going to mate, and we’re going to be mated, and then we’re going to be _soulmates_ , so you’re not allowed to tell us we can’t do that.”

Yunho’s heart skips a few beats.

Jooyoung-hyung very slowly lowers himself to semi-mirror Kyungjae-hyung, and their newest manager-hyung stares at them all with very round eyes.

“What he said,” Yunho agrees. “Also, do you think twenty-five is too little?”

“Too… too little?” Changmin says again, in the exact same strangled, terrible way.

“Perhaps Yunho-ssi should visit a doctor to determine if he’s already going into pre-heat,” interjects Kyungjae-hyung, which is odd, because Kyungjae-hyung never calls Yunho Yunho-ssi, but also, that would be sound advice, if Yunho wasn’t saying all of this just to get a fuss out of Changmin.

“I’m shitting with you,” Yunho admits.

Changmin stares at him, and then kicks him three times in quick, sharp succession. “You’re an asshole,” he mutters. His ears are blushing. Clearly, he’d actually believed Yunho for some reason wanted twenty-five children. He may have said something similar in an interview once upon a time but that was a) before he’d decided to stick himself permanently to someone incapable of sharing the load and b) before he’d even entertained the idea of carrying the load period.

Yunho smiles warmly at Changmin. “You love me.”

“I do.” Changmin goes serious. “So--”

“Book the tour for late April,” one of the SM executives continues. “You have The Mission in late March and early April.”

Yunho finally glances down at the packet in front of them with their tentative schedule. The Japan dates are the most final, because Japanese programs take more finesse and planning to book--especially for foreign singers. Even though they’re as good as Japanese singers, at this point. They did Kohaku Uta Gassen three times.

“That’s fine,” Changmin says. “Right?”

“Well, it’s not like we can time it,” says Jooyoung-hyung. He still hasn’t moved.

“Well.” Their team looks a little discomforted, but ultimately, not too bothered.

“Congratulations works,” Yunho says finally.

The men in front of them have known them since they were tiny. Since they both needed a parent present. Since before Yunho was even anywhere close to being comfortable with who he was. What he was. What his body could do.

“Congratulations,” says Kim Youngmin-seonsaengnim finally, and that’s all that’s needed for the dam to break.

Yunho smiles so hard his face hurts and puts his head down on the table to hide how he’s blushing a little. He’s still holding Changmin’s hand.

\--

“Did you mean it?” Yunho says later that night. A week from now, Changmin starts filming on _Moonlight Prince_ and Yunho will be back to the grind for _Queen of Ambition_. Three weeks from that they’ll be in Japan starting work on  ‘In Our Time’ and their newest album. The approved title is _Time_.

“This is really fucking unfair,” Changmin says, voice soft and strangled.

Yunho understands, because they’re currently basically all the way tied again, only this time Yunho is the one on his back while Changmin holds him by both hips and tries, in vain, to pull out to avoid talking.

“Changminnie-yah,” Yunho says.

“I am not giving you twenty-five children,” Changmin says immediately, not meeting Yunho’s eyes. He’s looking down at the seal of their hips like he might be able to pull out before it’s impossible, and Yunho very helpfully clenches his ass a few times to further ensure that that doesn’t happen.

Changmin groans, and curses, and cages Yunho more firmly to the bed. “Fuck,” he grits out, and fucks in a few times almost in response.

“I don’t want to trap you. You can pull out if you want,” Yunho says, and is almost hopeful, because he hasn’t had time to test out his theory re: edging, and what little taste he’d had on his knees up and close with Changmin’s dick had only reaffirmed his hypothesis that edging and an alpha cock would be literally _the next best thing_ to the high of heat sex.

Yunho realizes rather abruptly he’s never seen Changmin in rut before. All the times he’d been in heat, Changmin had been a baby, on suppressants, or only coming into his own and not biologically up for more than sweat pants and fights with Jaejoong.

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin waves a hand around a few times in front of Yunho’s face.

“I’m here,” Yunho says immediately. He hooks his legs behind Changmin’s back and arches his lower back a little. “Knot me--”

“I thought you weren’t going to be trapping me--” Changmin says, but is in the middle of doing so anyway, because three strokes turns into four turns into five turns into six and one long, groaning drag that ends with Yunho whining praise into the sudden kiss Changmin’s pressing to his mouth and the unfair grind of Changmin’s cockhead up against Yunho’s prostate.

Yunho’s own orgasm is almost startling in how easy it is. His toes curl, his eyes flutter shut, and he ends up sort of murmuring nonsense directly into the crown of Changmin’s head for a few minutes before he’s capable of words. “I mean, are you really that sure about the mating, thing. About us being soulmates--”

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says. He doesn’t lift his head off Yunho’s chest, but he also makes a point to hook a hand down under Yunho’s ass so that they stay more neatly tied together and there’s less of that wonderful pull that leaves Changmin a mess and Yunho well and truly ready to make a mockery of anyone who ever said men over twenty-six shouldn’t be having more than one orgasm; clearly whoever said that had never been with an omega before, and clearly they were also not trying their hardest and missing the fuck out.

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho replies, because Changmin isn’t continuing.

“Yunho,” Changmin says. “Look.”

“If you don’t want to we really don’t have to,” Yunho hurries to say.

Changmin tightens his grip on Yunho’s ass and tugs a little.

“Gah, why,” Yunho says, groaning his way through what feels like wants to be more than one orgasm but really shouldn’t be given how tiresome and long their day has been.

“I love you,” Changmin says. “And yeah, I’m not entirely sure we’re soulmates, or whatever, and I’m not going to believe it until I see it.” He tilts his head to one side and shoots Yunho a slightly shrewd look that’s ruined a little by his bangs, still honey colored and almost all the way grown back out.

“On either of us--you said that before,” Yunho points out helpfully, because he’s a helper.

“Yes,” Changmin says. “But you believe it and I believe in you.” His voice has gone low and hushed and he’s not quite meeting Yunho’s eyes anymore.

Yunho loves him so much his heart could burst.

“Come up here,” he says, because he’s a little pinned and a lot stuck to Changmin’s cock right now. “Come up here so I can kiss you, you surprisingly sentimental _sap_.”

“I am not the sap of this relationship,” Changmin mutters, but finally uncurls from Yunho’s chest and brings his face in close so that Yunho can kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

Yunho puts both hands on his cheeks and traces tiny circles up and down the skin in front of his ears. “I wish I could mark you here,” he mumbles into the seam of Changmin’s mouth and drags fingers with nails along Changmin’s neck.

Changmin makes a pleased hissing noise and nods into the next two kisses. “We can’t do it now,” he says quietly. “Not after we made such a fuss.” His brow furrows a little. “Also, Youngmin-seonsaengnim definitely invited himself to our wedding, which is a little startling since I’m pretty sure he hasn’t slept a wink since Hodong-hyung sent over the initial drafts for the show’s format and first script.”

Yunho snorts. “It’s cute that you think I’m going to plan our wedding,” he says.

“It’s cute that you think we’re going to have a wedding,” Changmin says.

Yunho snorts again. “My mother is absolutely not going to let me get away with just mating you,” he says. “And if we want to have anywhere near twenty-five--”

Changmin pulls away from his mouth and shakes his head at him.

“--If we want to have any children at all,” Yunho concedes, rolling his eyes despite how Changmin snaps his teeth at him. “We really don’t want to piss off my mother.”

Changmin heaves a long sigh, and finally pulls his hand out from under Yunho’s ass.

Yunho thinks, wow his arms are long.

“I guess that rules out orgasm number two,” Changmin says.

Yunho blinks down at him a few times, and then focuses on the knotting part of their situation. Changmin’s done coming, but he hisses when Yunho shifts. “Why, because I’m talking about my mom?”

“Because you’re talking about weddings,” Changmin says seriously, and then fake yelps when Yunho frowns at him.

Yunho reaches up and takes him by both nipples and pinches.

“Ow--fine--sorry--I didn’t mean it--Yunho-hyung,” Changmin blurts out rapid fire, twisting away from Yunho’s assault on his chest with as much dexterity as one can manage with their dick physically stuck inside another person.

“Anyway.” Yunho gives Changmin’s nipples one last twist, and then pats the skin around them in apology a few times. “You don’t get to claim me and not make it official,” he says.

Changmin’s the one snorting now. “You know Kyungjae-hyung is going to cart us to the court himself,” he says. “He’ll be the one taking the official photos--”

“That reminds me, have you decided on where you want to put it?”

One of Changmin’s hands very gently sneaks its way down Yunho’s body to thumb over his right hip bone almost in answer. It’s right next to Yunho’s dick, intimate, and makes Yunho’s skin break out in anticipatory gooseflesh.

Changmin breathes in very deeply a few times. “We can’t do it today,” he says.

“I know,” Yunho replies. “I love you.”

Changmin bends back down and kisses Yunho again, sighing a little as their bodies finally unlock and he’s able to pull out.

Yunho feels empty and leaking and disappointed before he can stop himself.

Changmin groans and rolls over to shove his entire face under their pillow. “Yunho-hyung,” he says.

Yunho turns his head to stare at him.

“Stop making that face every time you’re mad I’m leaking out of your ass,” he says.

Yunho blushes. “Shut up,” he says. He was not thinking that at all. Well. He was only thinking that a tiny bit. Well. He was thinking about it a fucking lot but only because it was gross and annoying and Yunho for once wanted to roll over and go to sleep without feeling wet and a little lonely.

Changmin removes his head from under the pillow, and then slaps a hand across the bed to grab Yunho by the left hip. He rolls him before Yunho can voice protests, tugging so that Yunho ends up basically on top of him in a mess of uncoordinated limbs.

Changmin sinks a finger into Yunho to the knuckle, curls, and then brings it back out.

He gets it all the way to his mouth before Yunho realizes what he’s doing, and groans. “Oh, fuck, Changminnie--no--”

Changmin’s tongue darts out to taste, and Yunho’s face feels like it’s on fire.

“Don’t--”

“I’m putting it here,” Changmin says around his finger, and releases that same hand to palm Yunho’s right hip again. “But it’s really too bad I can’t put it here.” He lets his hands shift around to press into the crease where Yunho’s ass meets his thigh. “Because I think you much prefer it when I put my tongue in you than on you--”

Yunho slaps an entire hand across Changmin’s mouth in his haste to get him to stop talking. “We should probably stock up on condoms,” he says instead of addressing the other thing because discussing that tended to end with Yunho face down in a pillow sobbing and Changmin’s tongue in his ass. “Doctor-nim told me that it could come literally any moment and we need to prepare.”

Changmin nips at Yunho’s fingers a little, and then licks at fingers a little, and Yunho tugs his hand back quickly before things get a whole other sort of oral.

“Changmin,” Yunho says.

“Fine,” Changmin says. “But don’t make that face you make when you’re disappointed that I’m _not_ leaking out of your ass--”

Yunho love taps him in the mouth again.

“Ow,” Changmin over complains. “Harassment--”

“You’re such a baby, Changmin-ah,” Yunho says. He cuddles in close to Changmin and grabs him by both cheeks. “You’re such a delicate flower--”

“Yah, shut up,” Changmin mutters, but cuddles Yunho back anyway.

They fall asleep spooning. Changmin’s the little spoon. Yunho thinks that’s unfair, but concedes that having Changmin’s head tucked under his chin all night is useful, especially when it means he gets to be woken up by a good morning blowjob all the more easier.

\--

tbc. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, retweets/reblogs are the best. What about. 700 kudos-- /is kicked out of fandom kicking and screaming. 
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/173302328190/my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/989248332206956544)


	16. flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. How in the heck does this have 715 kudos going into chapter the last? HOW. DID. YOU. DO THIS. I AM. SO HAPPY. AND AMAZED. AND THANKFUL.
> 
> 2\. I listened to the very wholesome _Love Line_ while writing this (what are the lyrics tho whAT ARE THE LYRICS THO) but this chapter’s theme song probably is… _Puzzle_.
> 
> 3\. Betaed by Kinah (who made amazing gifs please do check out the masterposts) and by Hexmen. BABY IS DONE. WE DID IT. IT'S OVER THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. All other mistakes are my own.

**16\. Flame**

\--

“Horse thighs?” Yunho says in Korean out of the corner of his mouth. They’re standing backstage for the Osaka Mission and _Hapikuru’s_ Sugimoto-san has already been ushered away from their interview, but Yunho is ninety-percent certain he’s still flushing about Changmin’s impromptu compliment.

“Mm?” Changmin stands next to him while the staff fiddle with his in-ears for last minute checks.

“Horse thighs?” Yunho enunciates again, still in Korean. He lets the stylists fuss with the fall of his hair around his ears for a little while longer, before turning to face his other half.

Changmin stares back at him with his cheeks puffed full of water.

Yunho swallows back the urge to smoosh both of them and ruin their perfectly straightened mesh outfits. “Yah.” He glowers at Changmin a little. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“I don’t speak Korean five minutes before a live show,” Changmin says, _in Korean_ , and then prances--he actually prances; Yunho wants to murder him--away to his marked spot on the floor.

Yunho’s belly feels weird. He thinks he’s _still_ blushing. Surreptitiously, he inhales. It’s barely the second of April, and it’s their last confirmed schedule for the fans before the tour. Youngmin-seonsaengnim and Sungchang-hyung had made good on their agreements to let Yunho and Changmin have at least three days mid-April for claiming. Everything had been pre-planned and perfected.

Standing backstage to go on for the Mission, Yunho has the faintest squirming of arousal pooling in his belly, and an unending flush.

“Shit,” he says to himself, still in Korean.

“Yunho-san?” One of their staff has appeared at his side holding water bottle.

Yunho smiles immediately, re-focusing on the task and the event before them. He ought to be scarfing down water like Changmin, who Yunho has noticed hasn’t looked over at him since he walked away. And thinking back on it, he’s feeling much less flushed at the moment, so maybe it’s all in his head.

Maybe he’s just jumping the gun.

The Mission MC heads out onto the stage to roaring applause, and Yunho drags himself into a loose circle with the dancers and Changmin for their standard cheer.

No one seems any the wiser.

Yunho chalks it up to embarrassment about Changmin’s confession about his thighs, and goes on stage to give the best performance he can manage.

\--

“You’re not allowed to dance in leather pants ever again,” Changmin says into Yunho’s mouth, walking him backwards into their Japanese apartment without even stopping to kick off his shoes.

Yunho gives Sungchang-hyung a wave, before trying to grab Changmin by the arms so that they can actually observe decorum and do so. “Changdol--”

“It’s terrible.” Changmin’s words are a slur but he’s not making out quite so intently with Yunho anymore, so Yunho takes advantage of the reprieve to very quickly bend to unlace his shoes.

That backfires, because Changmin immediately groans, and sinks both hands into Yunho’s hair.

Yunho lets him, blushing for what seems like the hundredth time that day, and unlaces Changmin’s shoes as well.

Changmin steps out of them.

“Déjà vu,” Yunho mumbles. He wonders if Changmin realizes he’s been petting through his hair this entire time. Probably not. It feels really, really nice. “Hey, Changminnie?” The thought from earlier is creeping and nagging and worrying Yunho because they’re due for a flight back to Seoul tomorrow.

“Mmm?” Changmin’s been reduced to murmuring again, and they’re still not even into the apartment.

“Can you smell me, real quick?” Yunho blurts. He doesn’t stand. He wants to bury his head in the nearest part of Changmin, even though that would be his hipbone, and even though his hip bone is sharp and uncomfortable and far too close to his dick. To his knot.

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin’s voice has gone raspy and rough.

Yunho stands so quickly he almost gets dizzy, and reaches out a hand to steady himself on Changmin’s shoulder.

The younger man takes his weight easily, not even breathing differently. “Yunho-hyung,” he says again.

“I felt funny earlier,” Yunho says. “When you were… being complimentary.”

Changmin blinks. “When I was comparing you to Siwon-hyung?”

It takes Yunho a moment to parse that bad joke, and then he slaps the shoulder he’s using as support. “Yah.”

Changmin chuckles but doesn’t do more than shake his bangs out of his eyes. “Sorry, when I was comparing you to a horse… aka Siwon-hyung--”

Yunho shakes his head, honestly a little amused, and finally steps into the apartment. He starts for the couch, then thinks better of it, and redirects towards his bedroom. Then he stops again, because that’s new. Usually they pick Changmin’s room, because Changmin’s room is easier and cleaner and smells less overwhelmingly like one of them because of that. Yunho has no idea why he’d want them to be in his room--they haven’t used his bed in weeks, only, actually. The last time they’d had sex had been in his room, and suddenly--worryingly--Yunho thinks that’s why he wants to be there.

So that he can smell more like them _together_.

“Oh fuck,” he swears.

Changmin comes up behind him so suddenly Yunho almost jumps. “Hyung.” He sounds honestly worried now. “What.”

“I need you to smell me,” Yunho says.

Changmin takes an automatic deep breath. “Hyung--”

“All I want to do,” Yunho says, turning to enunciate directly towards him. “Is go roll around in bed with you.”

Changmin’s eyes have gone very, very dark, nearly all the way filled with pupil. “How is that any different from usual, though?” he manages.

“It’s not,” Yunho concedes. “But it’s April--”

“Barely,” Changmin says. “You wore leather pants today.” He’s starting to look a little like a statue. “I just spent the entire car ride kissing you.”

Yunho concedes the point with a hum, content with the memory of said car ride. Changmin’s really, really good at kissing. All the more reason for them to definitely be soulmates. Nobody else has ever been so consistently good at kissing Yunho.

“You smell…” Changmin leaves his mouth open while he tries to come up with the words, and Yunho wants to lick in between his lips. “You smell like you want me, but again. How is that any different from usual?”

“Arrogant,” Yunho breathes. He does want Changmin. He wants him so badly all thoughts about the biological countdown they’ve been working alongside vanish. “But are you sure it’s not pre-heat--”

“Do you want me to call Sungchang-hyung?” Changmin says. “Or… Ishikawa-san--I’m not sure who drew the short stick, but we signed that damn contract--”

Yunho groans, mood a little ruined. “Changdol-ah,” he groans. “You’re right. If it was pre-heat, I wouldn’t want anything to do with you.”

“Ouch,” Changmin says, but he also laces both hands behind Yunho’s back anyway. They’re standing very close together in the middle of the hallway, still slightly angled towards Yunho’s bedroom.

“It’s the truth,” Yunho points out. “But to be fair, I’d want nothing to do with _anyone_ \--”

“Truly a tragedy,” Changmin says.

“I’ve never seen you in rut before,” Yunho says. “But I’m pretty sure you’re going to be a right asshole, so I think I’m allowed to be a little bit picky at the beginning--”

“Well, everyone else is going to want you also,” Changmin says, lips pulling to one side. He starts to walk Yunho backwards again until they hit the wall, and his hands leave his shoulder blades to rest behind the back of his head.

“Déjà vu,” Yunho says again.

“I like you,” Changmin agrees immediately.

Yunho smiles.

Changmin’s eyes crinkle even as he rolls them. “You’re distracting me.”

“Oops.” Yunho wonders if it would be terrible if he kisses him before they could finish talking this out.

“But as I was saying, it’s good you’re ‘picky’ as you called it, because I wouldn’t want to have to kill Boa-noona or anything.”

Yunho pauses. “Are you jealous of Boa?”

“No,” Changmin replies immediately. “But Heechul-hyung’s in the army--”

“Not really.”

“--and Hyukjae-hyung has Donghae-hyung--”

“Fair.”

“--and Hojoon-hyung’s a fucking beta but he’d still probably want you--”

“Yeah, Hojoon-hyung’s like my brother, gross--”

“--and Kyungjae-hyung--”

“My dildo?”

“--might be a beta--”

“Ah, never mind then, my dildo isn’t a beta--”

Changmin uses his conveniently placed hand to knock gently against Yunho’s skull. “Why are you close to so many alphas?”

Yunho stares at Changmin for a long moment, then, pointedly, walks his eyes down his own body to his dick. “Is this a rhetorical question?”

Changmin disengages from the impromptu wall press with a vaguely disgusted yet still beautifully aroused expression on his face. “Yunho-hyung.”

“What?” Yunho follows after him feeling a little like an over-excited lap dog. “I mean are you really asking? It’s a wonder our fans still think I’m an alpha--”

Changmin bypasses his bedroom for Yunho’s in a way that looks casual, but is definitely calculated because of that thing Yunho said back when they were just starting.

Yunho follows after him with his hands fluttering between the two of them. “Changdol--”

“You’re more than a biological tendency towards…being fucked,” Changmin mutters. He won't meet Yunho’s eyes. “Your friendships are more than a biological tendency towards people who could--” He breaks off, definitely uncomfortable now, and Yunho watches him blush to what seems like the roots of his dark hair. Yunho almost misses the gold, even though it’s been two weeks of Changmin looking more like he’d looked when they met ten (ten!!) years ago.

“Changminnie-yah.”

“Look.” Changmin drags a hand up over his own face. “Can we go back to me sniffing you to figure out you’re not in heat anymore and then you getting all worked up because I’m smelling you and then me getting all worked up because you smell worked up and then fucking?”

Yunho blinks a few times through that train of thought. “Changdol we can always fuck,” he says. “But really, we need to figure out if it’s pre-heat--”

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin drops his hand and grabs Yunho in the same move. “You are not in pre-heat.”

Yunho’s eyes dart down to Changmin’s dick like some sort of heat seeking missile. “Then--”

“But you _could be_ ,” Changmin continues. “And we _signed that contract_ \--”

“Changdol, every time you remind me that Kyungjae-hyung is going to have to stand outside the door and shout about condoms I get less inclined to let you fuck me--”

“Well then you can just fuck me,” Changmin replies pragmatically. “And stop distracting me. We are not going without a condom.”

“Fine,” Yunho grumbles. “But that’s your loss when we have to have all the babies next year.”

There’s a beat.

Changmin stares at Yunho’s mouth with his own lips parted and his eyes very slowly going wide.

Yunho reworks that sentence around his brain a few times.

Changmin’s nostrils flare, and he starts to pull away.

“I didn’t say that,” Yunho determines quickly, grabbing him by the arms before he can do so and walking him backwards so that his legs hit the bed. “I didn’t say that and I’m totally fine with us using a condom--”

“Yunho-hyung--” Changmin tries to say.

Yunho shoves him down on the bed and sits on him. “Later, Changminnie, I--” His voice breaks. “Your show starts tomorrow and Hyung is going to be _pissed_ that I’m early and I’m not ready to be that close to anyone on our staff so later--”

Changmin pulls Yunho down by the neck with a loud, breathy sigh. “Fine,” he says. “But you’re seeing the doctor tomorrow--”

“Yeah, okay,” Yunho says quickly, eyes caught on Changmin’s mouth. “Sure. Can you fuck me now?”

Changmin moves like he’s going to kiss Yunho, and then doesn’t. His mouth skirts teasingly along the skin of Yunho’s cheekbone, up behind his ear, and in two seconds flat Yunho finds himself on his back with his head up by the pillows and Changmin sitting back overtop him on his heels.

Yunho shivers. Changmin looks like a fucking _dream_.

“I don’t know,” the man is saying, one teasing finger stroking its way down the center of Yunho’s t-shirt and the other working gently over Yunho’s right hip bone. “I think I’d much rather ride you instead.” He works his thumb underneath the hem of Yunho’s shirt and presses down against the flat of the bone. “You’re sensitive here,” he says, like he had that first time. His tone is the same, his eyes are the same, and Yunho think’s it’s unfair how hard and wet he is.

“Changdol-ah,” he protests.

“You’ve got horse thighs, after all,” Changmin purrs. “It seems unfair for you to do the riding when the metaphor is that good.”

“Oh my God, shut up and put my dick in you,” Yunho gasps, and reaches down for the hem of his own shirt.

“My pleasure,” Changmin says, and he might still be smirking, but he sounds just as broken up about it as Yunho is.

“Love you,” Yunho says.

Changmin grins down at him, less fanged and more affectionate, before his expression goes positively filthy. “Did you buy lube?” he says.

Yunho has a horrible sinking feeling. “Changdol--”

“That’s a no, then?”

“Look, clearly I don’t need it,” Yunho says, gesturing down at himself before he can stop to think a little. He can feel the slick leaking out of him as he speaks, because biology is biology and Yunho’s brain might know that Changmin’s the one getting the cock up his ass, but Yunho’s ass sure doesn’t give any fucks about that. “So clearly I don’t _buy_ it.”

“Well, that’s okay,” Changmin interrupts, moving off Yunho’s hip in favor of going for the button of his jeans.

Yunho hisses and tries not to hump up into the press of his hands when the movement reminds him very much that his dick is as interested, if not more, in the present turn of events.

“We’ll just have to improvise.” Changmin tugs Yunho’s jeans all the way down and tosses them randomly onto the floor with far more glee than he has any right to.

“Fuck--Changmin--” Yunho says, a little dizzy, at the same time Changmin’s taking hold of his hips and manhandling him so that he can get his mouth down on the skin of his right thigh. “Don’t you dare start talking about Siwonnie--”

Changmin’s teeth graze the top of his thigh in warning, but he doesn’t bite down in a way that would indicate a claim. “You stop talking about Siwon-hyung.”

“You started talking about Siwon first,” groans out Yunho.

Changmin switches tactics and sucks the head of Yunho’s cock into his mouth.

Yunho shoves back into the pillow and moans. It’s unfair how quickly Changmin’s learned to be a less selfish alpha lover and not immediately go for deep throating so that he can get his lips up near where Yunho’s knot would be if he had one.

Changmin pulls off Yunho’s cock with a lewd pop.

“Changminnie,” Yunho tries.

“I still want you to fuck me,” Changmin says, and when Yunho doesn’t immediately understand, sinks one finger into Yunho’s ass to the knuckle.

Yunho’s vision goes spotty and he immediately drops a hand down to grip the base of his own dick. “Changmin--”

“I’m going to need three fingers, I think,” Changmin says, not doing anything with his hand. “Two first,” he decides, and works those two in before Yunho can so much as unravel that sentence.

“Fuck,” he swears, still holding onto his cock and kicking a little mindlessly at the bed. “Changmin--”

“Although, you always like to do the prep--”

“That’s because prep is important and you’re rough with yourself,” Yunho says, even though his eyes are shut tightly and he feels about ten seconds from orgasm. “Which, I get it, my dick is amazing, but Changmin, really, you’re going to have it for the rest of our lives--”

Changmin’s fingers stop messing around and find Yunho’s prostate with mind-numbing accuracy. “You’re definitely going to the doctor tomorrow,” he says. “You’re definitely more romantic than usual--”

Yunho finally does get his eyes open and scowls. “I’m no less romantic than I usually am when you have your _hand_ up my ass--”

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin’s fingers feel like they’re basically glued up to the bundle of nerves inside Yunho that makes him see stars. “This is not my entire hand. I have more than three fingers--”

“I thought you were the one supposed to be riding _my_ horse thighs!” Yunho near shouts and heaves himself upright so that he can shove Changmin in the center of his chest a little. He regrets that almost instantly, because the move unseats Changmin’s fingers and leaves him loose and wanting. Yunho’s hips fuck up involuntarily, and he can already feel the slow curl of nonsense in the back of his mind telling him to get on his front instantly.  

He can hear Changmin breathing. He can hear Changmin breathing him in. It makes his head even foggier.

“True,” Changmin manages finally. “But I don’t trust you to fuck yourself and not just climb on.”

Yunho darts an annoyed look down at Changmin’s cock when prompted, and then has to concede the man’s point, because the skin of his knot looks red and flushed and ready and Yunho think it’s _unfair_ that he can’t climb on.

“If you climb on... condom,” Changmin says, and that’s enough to make Yunho scowl and sticks his own fingers down for slick.

“Just dirty talk me a bit,” he says, not really doing more than working over his rim, because he’s still not entirely certain he won’t end up on Changmin’s dick anyway. “So I get-- fuck--”

Changmin’s put his hand down to join him like he can’t help it, and he has no qualms about sticking entire fingers into the mix.

“So I get--messy.” Yunho’s sentences are coming out fractured and slurred and confusing. It’s hard to concentrate long enough to get to the end, and it’s hard to remember to make his vowels sound intelligible.

“You’re getting yourself there on your own, I think,” says Changmin.

Yunho squints an eye open at him and growls, before deeming his fingers wet enough to fuck Changmin. “Well?” He cocks his head down and tries on a smirk. “Aren’t you going to ride me?”

“And you acted like me saying that was the worst thing in the world,” Changmin says, but hoists himself up anyway so that he can settle across Yunho’s thighs.

“Yeah, well,” Yunho says, and works a finger in.

Changmin’s mouth round out into an tiny ‘o.’

“Don’t bite me,” Yunho decides, when Changmin’s face ends up in the crook of his neck. “Manager-hyungdeul will kill us if it’s anywhere that public--”

“Yeah, okay, less talking, more fingering--”

Yunho obliges with an eye roll.

“Shit,” Changmin hisses out, pleased. He kisses the skin of Yunho’s neck along his left jawline. “I’m just going to suck on you,” he decides. “No teeth just--”

Yunho works in the third finger, and wants to groan alongside Changmin when he does so. Fingering Changmin is always so fun and different, but no less amazing than when they do things the other way around. Even though it’s always significantly difficult to get started--Yunho hates to think of himself as selfish, but it’s hard not to get distracted and forget that he’s only got two fingers into himself as a means of gathering slick so that he can properly prep Changmin.

In fact even now, with all 183 centimeters of the man sprawled across his thighs groaning, it’s all Yunho can do to stay focused. The angle’s a little off, and riding is so good that Yunho worries he won’t be able to get Changmin lucid enough to give him his own set of fingers--the man is so _fucking_ flexible--, but Yunho finds he doesn’t really mind.

Especially when Changmin makes good on his earlier promise, and starts laving kisses all along the skin of Yunho’s neck.

“It’s still gonna bruise,” Yunho mutters a while later, straining to keep from fucking Changmin immediately.

“Hickeys aren’t as big of a deal as claim marks,” Changmin says, and reaches a hand down to hook into Yunho’s ass.

Yunho stops thinking much about anything after that.

\--

The doctor pronounces Yunho not yet in heat, but very kindly presents him with all sort of pamphlets and informational websites without being prompted. Yunho leaves his office with a lot of bowing and smiling and trying not to make too much eye contact with anyone else in the waiting room, to head back to Japan to start tour rehearsals in earnest. He wears the oversized jacket as instructed with the hood pulled up all the way over his mouth in the airport, and goes exactly where directed to perform exactly what he’s told for next two days, all the while antsy, and anxious, and reading the information from his doctor in bed later at night.

And then as planned, blessedly, for once in his twenty-eight years, Yunho wakes up on the morning of their scheduled break in pre-heat.

He’s tempted to punch the air.

He settles for texting Manager-hyung and Manager-san that it’s happening, and whoever drew the short stick can expect to come over with condoms and groceries sometime in the next forty eight hours.

Then he rolls over to wake Changmin.

“Five more minutes,” the man says immediately. He’s been getting up at ungodly hours to practice bowling for the _Cool Kiz_ , and Yunho almost feels bad for him. But he also feels squirmy and happy and ready, and Changmin needs to know.

“Changdol,” he croons directly into his bandmate’s ear. “Guess what time it is?”

“Time for you to let me sleep because it’s my off day?” Changmin mumbles without opening his eyes.

Yunho narrows his own. Time to resort to desperate measures. It takes about two inhales for Changmin’s eyes to come open, then only three more for him to be palming Yunho’s ass, and finally one for him to groan out curses.

“Right on schedule,” Yunho agrees pleasantly, and lets Changmin hold him by the ass for a few more seconds, before getting to his feet and leaving the bedroom. He makes it all the way down the hall to the kitchen before he realizes he needs to put on clothes, and then detours to Changmin’s room to raid his closet.

For some reason, he doesn’t want anyone to touch him.

“Oh,” Yunho says to himself once he’s pulled on Changmin’s sweatpants. “Pre-heat.”

He goes back to the bedroom for his phone, still ignoring the lump lying in the center of his bed staring at him.

 _How long does the don’t touch me phase last_? Yunho sends to Donghae, head tilted to one side.

“Are those my--my sweatpants?” Changmin rasps at him.

Yunho ignores him.

“My _rut_ sweatpants?”

“You’ve never been in rut before,” Yunho says almost aimlessly, not really listening so much as responding.

“The sweatpants I bought _for rut_?” Changmin corrects, a little miffed sounding. “Yunho-hyung.”

 _I dunno, maybe a day?_ Donghae has messaged him back immediately. _But does this mean what I think it means? Congratulations Yunho-hyung!_

Yunho smiles down at his phone, before shooting Changmin one last look. “I texted Manager-hyung before I woke you, so you should probably get dressed.” He casts a look down at Changmin’s very prominently hard cock. “And take a shower.”

Changmin keeps staring after him somewhat helplessly. “I,” he says. “Put some socks on, please.”

Yunho casts a look down at his bare toes.

“I don’t want you to catch a cold,” Changmin says. Then his eyes go round.

“Huh,” Yunho says. “I’ve never seen you in rut before.” Then he cackles, pleased at the look of dismay on Changmin’s face, and skips out of the room.

“Yunho-hyung!” Changmin’s voice is very strangled. “Are you not wearing _boxers_ \--”

“No, why--”

“You’re. You’re going to make a _mess_ of my _sweatpants_ \--”

“Well, you bought them for rut, anyway,” Yunho says.

From his room, all he can hear is swearing.

\--

Dinner that night is hilarious. Changmin keeps getting up whenever Yunho so much as breathes on anything, and also had insisted on making the food. Yunho takes great joy both in complimenting the man on his cooking, and making tiny comments that could be disapproval, just to watch Changmin’s temples go sweaty and his pride war with his baser instincts.

Kyungjae-hyung just sits across from Yunho next to Changmin and sighs. “Be honest,” the man addresses Changmin finally. “Are you going to keep your mind enough together that I won’t be necessary?”

“You drew the short straw, then?” Yunho determines.

“I’m might be working with EXO next year,” Kyungjae-hyung sighs. “It would be cruel to make Jaeyoung do it--”

“You’re such a good person, Kyungjae-hyung,” Yunho says. He settles his chin into his palm and smiles at the man.

Changmin’s eyes blaze and he angrily stabs into his pasta dish with his chopsticks.

Yunho gets all squirmy in his seat again, only the desire to keep pushing and shoving so Changmin is less inclined to want to mate him is rapidly going away into nothing. He’s been wet pretty much the entire hour they’ve been sitting at the table, and he knows both of the men in house can smell it.

Kyungjae-hyung mostly looks resigned.

Changmin looks torn between mindlessly aroused and ready to fire their manager. He’s had an erection basically all day.

Yunho thinks about that, and then about Changmin’s dick and knot period, and determines he would not object to sitting on them. “I think the pre-heat has ended,” he decides.

“Entirely unnecessary,” Changmin says, eyes zeroed in on Yunho’s.

Kyungjae-hyung reaches out to take his chopsticks before he can take an eye out. “How many babies are you going to give Yunho then?” the man asks.

“As many as he wants,” Changmin says.

Kyungjae-hyung sighs. “Right, well, I’m going to just… bleach my brain, and I will open the door if you don’t respond to me.”

Changmin’s lips turn down. “No, I,” he says.

Kyungjae-hyung raises an eyebrow.

“Fine,” Changmin concedes.

“It’s because you’ve never been in rut before,” Yunho tells Changmin, leaning in a little almost conspiratorially.

“No, it’s because you’re special, Yunho-yah,” Kyungjae-hyung mutters, but stands with his plate anyway. “Finish your dinner.”

Yunho glances down at his plate, and sighs. “Fine.”

Changmin is still staring at him with his lips parted.

“Because Changmin made it.”

Changmin makes a punched noise and whines.

\--

It takes about three orgasms for Yunho to stop feeling quite so mindless, and for Kyungjae-hyung to finally leave them be with the vague threat to keep using condoms _or else_. Yunho sits himself on Changmin’s dick and yawns, bemused at the pain in his manager’s voice, but also a tiny bit sad because he’s starting to think more clearly about how he really shouldn’t be giving Changmin babies. “Sorry,” he says, once they’re definitely alone in the apartment and Changmin hasn’t said anything. “We’ve never talked about it--”

“We’ve talked about it in interviews,” Changmin says. He leans in to press a very tiny kiss to Yunho’s cheek, and then sort of stays there for a long while.

They’re basically embracing, Changmin’s arms wrapped tight around Yunho’s waist and Yunho’s own draped across Changmin’s shoulders and around his neck, and for some reason everything feels so much calmer and less of a big deal than Yunho had been expecting. Probably because they’d been having sex pretty consistently beforehand. Probably because now that they were here, in the moment, Yunho was starting to be just a tiny bit afraid.

He’d thought things over with Heechul-hyung via KakaoTalk the night before and determined that while it would pain him to be seen as copying Donghae, biting Changmin on the ankle was probably the safest bet. Changmin’s propensity towards stripping meant his entire torso was off limits, and Yunho hadn’t even had to ask to know that Changmin was going to be biting him on his hip, and mirroring the action felt wrong for some reason. Romantic, sure, but Yunho wanted his mark to be his own. Unique.

Changmin reaches out and pokes him in the furrow of his brow. “You’re frowning,” he says.

“I’m thinking,” Yunho says.

“About our twenty-five kids?” Changmin says. “Because I can call Hyung back if you want--”

Yunho tightens his grip like he wants to strangle him, and clenches down a little so Changmin hisses and goes lax.

“About where I’m going to mark you,” he says.

Changmin’s expression clouds over with lust. “Oh yeah,” he says. His voice is raw. “Do you want another one before I do it?” He starts rocking his hips up and down so that his knot tugs and pulls on the overly sensitive skin of Yunho’s rim.

Yunho moans and groans and twists back into it. “Yes,” he says. His voice is high. “I--yes--oh--” The orgasm is almost a surprise, like his body had forgotten his refractory period was near null in heat. Yunho’s head spins.

Changmin hisses and coos and kisses him some more. “Make me come, Hyung,” he says. “Make me come so that I can turn you over and lick myself out of you for _hours_ \--”

“Condom,” Yunho moans out, still lifting pointlessly against the cling of Changmin’s knot. “Already--knotted--”

“ _You know what I mean_ ,” Changmin purrs, and Yunho does.

He comes what feels dry for the second time in minutes and is sure to clench down hard on Changmin’s knot, groaning.

Changmin’s back curves and his nails dig into the skin of Yunho’s back, but there’s no sensation and warmth to signify his end.

Yunho feels his lips start to turndown.

“One day,” Changmin tells him, not opening his eyes. “I promise.”

“Even twenty-five?”

“Mm, well, I don’t think that’s physically possible, but if you must, adoption,” Changmin murmurs. He leans in close to kiss Yunho a few more times.

Yunho sighs into his mouth and kisses back. His heart feels so full it could burst. “I like heat with you,” he sighs. “It’s nice.”

Changmin’s beautiful eyes finally open, and Yunho lets himself drown in them.

“I’m still a little… eager,” Yunho decides. “But it’s nice not to hurt first.” He’s describing it badly. “I like that it’ll be over sooner.”

Changmin’s lips twitch. “Yunho-hyung.”

“Whatever.” Yunho’s almost embarrassed. “Look, you’ve still got like ten minutes, so can we eat something?”

Changmin blinks. “You want to try walking… tied?” he says.

Yunho blinks back. His stomach grumbles.

Changmin is up and carrying him into the kitchen with purpose before Yunho’s so much as determined that the noise was his hunger.

\--

Yunho’s bite is an accident. Changmin feeds him to the point where Yunho worries he will never move again, and then drags them into the shower for another, beautifully calming fuck. (Yunho really is going to have to write to Donghae that instead of trying to gently walk Yunho to his feelings, he should have taken him by the face and told him ‘if you mate him, you will never have to feel like you’re going to die if you don’t have a dick again’).

After that they end up in bed, and Changmin spends what feels like hours working him over with his fingers and tongue, before setting his teeth into the skin of Yunho’s hipbone like he can’t quite believe he’s allowed.

They’re both silent and shaky afterwards, wrapped around each other on their sides fighting the urge to end up tied again until it’s very clear that Changmin’s claim is going _nowhere_ \--and after that, well.

Yunho has Changmin on his back, on his front, almost off the bed, and then on his back again, kissing and groaning and loving each other to the point that Yunho’s almost sad that after their allotted forty-eight hours, Changmin will have to fly to Seoul for filming, and then they’ll be starting work on the tour in earnest.

“Shit, Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says, in the middle of that second back one, breathing directly into Yunho’s ear and holding him by the throbbing, somehow still hard cock with one guitar-calloused hand.

“I agree,” Yunho mumbles, and ruts forward into the circle of Changmin’s fingers a few more times. He thinks it’s great that Changmin’s taken up guitar. One, because he loves it and is actually quite good at playing, and two, because the drag is just a shade rough and clinging and it makes Yunho’s head spin. “Guitar. Hands. Awesome,” he says, making absolutely no sense, and sees stars when he comes.

“It’s worrying that I understood you,” Changmin says, and groans into the crown of Yunho’s head.

“Shut up,” Yunho says.

“Mmm,” Changmin says.  

Yunho lies across Changmin’s chest for what feels like the entire time it takes for Changmin’s knot to go down, breathing hard. Then, he lifts his head. “I think I kicked the condoms.”

“That was poor planning on your part,” Changmin mumbles.

“I am _not_ getting up,” Yunho grumbles.

“Fine, but you better get me the _best_ anniversary present next year,” Changmin says, but pulls off of Yunho anyway.

After the initial ‘you’re mine forever nobody else can have you’ round, they hadn’t really had the patience for more than position swapping (it turned out, Yunho really couldn’t get enough of the drag of Changmin’s knot when the other man was manhandling him around on the bed, and his voice could reach octaves he hadn’t thought capable; it turned out, Changmin went shuddery and orgasmic when Yunho was whining his name at that particular pitch). Despite that, both of their chests are a mess and they’re a little stuck together.

Changmin makes a face at the pull but rolls his way to the side of the bed anyway. “Where the heck did you kick them?” he mutters and sticks his head basically all the way under the bed.

Yunho reaches out to steady him by the lower back automatically, and then, considering, rolls himself up onto his knees to watch his other half fumble under the bed.

“Are you _sure_ you kicked them?” Changmin is in the middle of saying, but Yunho is too busy rubbing over the divots of his spine and pressing thumbs into the dimples of his lower back.

Changmin really doesn’t have much of an ass, the fans like to say. But without his clothes on, Yunho would beg to differ.

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin sounds like he’s done letting the blood rush to his head, and Yunho hauls him by the hips so that he’s not all the way draping off the bed to be helpful. Only in doing so, he ends up basically face to face with Changmin’s lower back and crack, and well.

The bite on Yunho’s hip is fresh and new and singing, practically screaming for Yunho to sink his teeth into Changmin and mark him in return.

Changmin semi-existent ass is round, and pert, and pale, and a little bit marked up from when Yunho’s scratched him several hours earlier.

Yunho swallows, opens his mouth, and kisses one of the dimples in Changmin’s spine.

“Yunho-hyung,” Changmin says, going to turn over, and it’s in that instance that Yunho’s instincts kick in, and he’s sinking his teeth into the meat of Changmin’s left ass cheek before he can so much as think the action through.

Changmin startles, gasps, and moans, then goes silent, and lax, and panting.

Yunho lets his tongue lave out to soothe the mark almost automatically, instinct hot and heavy on the roof of his mouth. He keeps his teeth in Changmin’s ass for what feels like minutes.

There is a very pregnant pause.

Yunho’s hole is already starting to get wet with desire; Yunho’s cock is already starting to go heavy with arousal; Changmin’s head is still half hanging off the bed.

“Yunho-hyung,” he says slowly. “Did you just claim me? On my ass?” His question comes out in two sentences and neither of those two sentences are a question.

Yunho stares down at the physical proof that he did just do that, and swallows. “Um.”

Changmin rises up on all fours and unseats Yunho from where he’d ended up crouched down around his lower half. “You just claimed me on my _ass_ ,” he says.

“No--I--” Yunho says, heart racing despite himself. He tries to get to his feet, and then squeaks when Changmin grabs him around the waist and hauls him back into his lap. He’s got a condom on two moments later, and Yunho’s still dizzy and not really sure what’s happening. “Changmin--”

The man is sinking Yunho down onto his cock without so much as blinking, and Yunho’s going boneless and pleased before he can as well.

“Fuck--what--”

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin raises up on his knees a little and tries to crane his head around to stare at his left ass cheek. “You just claimed me on my _left ass cheek_ \--”

“Look, I panicked,” Yunho says somewhat desperately, wriggling around on Changmin’s dick. It’s really fucking hot that Changmin’s managing to support both of them on only his thighs. “The fans are always saying you have no ass and I was just thinking you do, actually, it just has to be naked--”

“So you figured you’d mark me on my ass so that it can go in my legal record and I’ll be the laughing stock of Kyuline until the day I die?” Changmin snaps.

He stops trying to stare at the bite mark and settles for slamming up a few angry times directly into Yunho’s prostate.

Yunho slaps a hand around to said ass cheek mostly to steady himself, and also because he very vividly remembers how nice it was when Changmin touched his hip two rounds ago.

“Fuck,” Changmin says, like clockwork, and fucks up a few more times. “That’s--I mean, I like it, clearly, but I think that’s just because it’s there--fuck it’s _staying_ , isn’t it--Hyung check--check please--fuck--stop--don’t--” His neck is straining with how arched his back is, and Yunho giggles into his Adam’s apple and keeps digging his fingers into his mating mark.

“Changdol-ah,” he says, voice like sandpaper. “I love you. You love me. Of _course_ it’s staying--”

“I mean--unrequited--” Changmin tries, and then gives up, groaning. He slaps a hand down on Yunho’s right hip and adds nails.

Yunho wails, loses control of his limbs, and comes dry between them with a broken sob.

Changmin follow suit what feels like seconds later. “I _love_ you,” he groans.

“I love you too,” Yunho says. He doesn’t even have the energy to be angry about the condom.

“I still cannot believe you claimed me on my ass, though,” Changmin continues.

Yunho kind of feels bad. He buries his face in Changmin’s hair to hide his smile.

“I can feel that,” Changmin says.

“At least you can go shirtless and wear shorts and low socks to your heart's content?” Yunho says.

Changmin audibly snorts. “I could have done that if you’d bitten me on my hip like I had the courtesy to do to you, Hyung.”

Yunho opens his eyes. “That would have been copying,” he says.

Changmin stops his hand where it had been stroking up and down Yunho’s spine. “Are you saying you did this on _purpose_ \--?”

“No, just.” Yunho yelps when Changmin hoists them around so that the younger man can better lie on their mess of a bed. “I wanted to do something that was my own,” Yunho explains. He smiles hopefully down at the love of his life. “And it really just was because your ass was there--”

Changmin settles both hands on Yunho’s hips and lifts, dragging his knot against Yunho’s asshole like an absolute tool.

Yunho swears profusely. “Look, sorry, but it’s done.”

“Yeah.” Changmin glowers at him darkly for a few more minutes, before sighing, and letting go of his hips. He lingers one thumb over his own claim for a moment, before sighing and pulling Yunho in by the neck. “It’s done.”

Yunho’s heart skips at least two beats, and he feels warmth flood his cheeks. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re mine forever.”

Changmin stares up at him, glowing. “I am,” he says. “And you’re mine forever.”

Yunho feels shivers work their way all the way down his spine.

“Even though it’s because you claimed my _ass_ \--”

“I’m just really progressive, Changminnie,” Yunho says pleasantly. “Normally, people think of it the other way.”

Changmin stares up at him with his mouth open.

“The alpha claims the omega’s ass,” Yunho explains, still smiling happily. “We flipped it--”

“I’m going to _flip you_ ,” Changmin snarls, and comes at Yunho with tickling and nipple twisting and doom.

Yunho laughs, and shouts uncle and protests and all about how it’s really unfair because they are _trapped_ together and Changmin is the _worst_.

“Ass bite,” Changmin says, and kisses him.

\--

“Don’t tell me where your mark is,” Kyungjae-hyung says, when Yunho and Changmin arrive to rehearsal the next morning. “Don’t tell me any more details; I am already scarred for life--”

“It’s on his ass,” Yunho says happily, and cackles his way away from Changmin’s squawking and extremely red face.

“Yunho- _hyung_!” Changmin says.

“That’s sweet,” 50-san says.

“You’re sweet,” Achi-san agrees.

“It is not sweet that Yunho-hyung _claimed me_ on _my ass_!” Changmin shrieks.

“It’s good this is a closed rehearsal,” Jooyoung-hyung points out.

Yunho lets Changmin catch him and whirls in the circle of his arms. “It kind of is sweet,” he says. “Because it means you love me,” he says.

Changmin’s breath hisses between his teeth, but his fingers are already working over Yunho’s hips anyway.

The mark is hidden under three layers of clothes, but it is still oh-so-perfectly sensitive.

“It’s kind of unfair I can’t return the favor,” Yunho says, breathlessly. “People will think I’m harassing you.”

Changmin looks him in the eye, grabs him by the hand, and puts it on his own ass without even pausing.

“Great,” Kyungjae-hyung says. “Great. That’s going to be a thing, now. Great--” He breaks off, grinning, and when Yunho meets his eyes, mouths, ‘ _Congratulations_.’

Then he says more, but Yunho leans in to kiss Changmin instead.

Changmin sighs but closes his eyes regardless to kiss right back.

It’s by silent, mutual agreement that they decide to flip their managers off.

\--

_He [Yunho-hyung] is the last flame of my life._

_\--[Shim Changmin, September 16th, 2017, Happy Together](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lphlAxj4RaA)_

\--

end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOUT OUT TO EVERYONE WHO LEFT COMMENTS ON EVERY CHAPTER YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE YOU'RE ALL AMAZING. I'm really looking forward to the comments on this the last final chapter. :)
> 
> Shout out to Kinah and Hexmen for carrying this travesty. I hope you all check out the NEWLY UPDATED AND FIXED [The heart fluttering feeling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10683927) and also [All the cells in my body are screaming it’s you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14404932) which take place in between this fic and THE SEQUEL WHICH I shall start posting when I have written more than the first chapter.
> 
> Direct sequel is live [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707908/chapters/33989631) now!
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/173554921980/my-heart-has-changed-after-meeting-you) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/992143769486098433)


End file.
